Something Wicked
by Mislav
Summary: Halloween-themed case!fic. Set post season seven. Discovery of a human head buried in the park leads to the team reopening one of the Philadelphia's most notorious, and the creepiest, cold cases. Back in 1997, five people, three of them teenagers, were brutally murdered after the school bus broke down on an isolated road. The survivors claimed they were attacked by a monster.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I don't own any od the "Cold Case" characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

 **Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

 **Here it is. Halloween-themed "Cold Case" fanfiction. This story takes place post season 7, in 2010 (hence why the characters mention that the 13th anniversary of the massacre is approaching, when the murders took place in 1997). It also takes place in the same universe as my previous two completed "Cold Case" case!fics: after "Generation X", but before "Christmas Eve". The case featured in this story has been inspired by the 2003 slasher horror movie, "Jeepers Creepers 2". Personally, it is not my favorite horror movie, and I despise the director, but the general storyline just seemed like a good fit for the Halloween-themed "Cold Case" episode. There are also multiple references to other famous horror movies, TV shows and literature throughout the fanfic; in character names, casting choices, etc. If you catch some of them, feel free to mention it in the review or pm.**

 **Cast**

 **Eriq La Salle as Jacob Stiller**

 **Devon Sawa as Jason VoilesBbn**

 **Emmy Clarke as Carrie Willson**

 **Jake T. Austin as Danny Jennings**

 **Titus Makin jr. as Kevin Davis**

 **Michael Emerson as Freddy Keller**

 **Shawnee Smith as Meghan Keller**

 **Maia Mitchell as (young) Wendy Teller**

 **Danielle Harris as (adult) Wendy Teller**

 **Skeet Urlich as Sam Winthrop**

 **Sarah Michelle Gellar as Brenda Sanders**

 **Graham Greene as Ahiga Nez**

 **Paula Jai Parker as Sarah Stiller**

 **Anya Taylor-Joy as (teenage) Trish Jenkins**

 **Michelle Monaghan as (adult) Trish Jenkins**

 **Amara Zaragoza as Jenny Peterson**

 **The following story is fictional and does not depict any actual person or event.**

 _("Dammit" by Blink-182)_

 _October 29th 1997_

 _The school bus was traveling down the bumpy road, in between the large forest surrounding the area. Seven girls, all dressed in cheerleading uniforms, were sitting to the left; while the boys of the same age were sitting to the right. The coach, Jacob Stiller, was sitting on the first seat to the right, keeping an eye on the players. The bus was filled with an excited chatter and laughter, as well as an occasional crude joke. Everyone seemed very excited, eager, and happy._

 _Well, almost everyone. Carrie Willson was sitting in the back of the bus, away from other cheerleaders as well as the football team, staring through the near by window, a solemn expression on her face, a tired look in her big brown eyes, her hands clutched in her lap. Nobody seemed to notice, nor care. Except for Trish Jenkins, a cheerleader sitting just two seats away from Carrie. She glanced over at Carrie twice, trying to make an eye contact, but Carrie kept observing the large forest growing by the road, as well as the cracked, bumpy asphalt, like she could think of nothing else to do. Finally, Trish sighed, stood up, and approached Carrie. Carrie looked in her direction upon hearing the approaching footsteps, flinching briefly upon seeing her._

 _"Carrie... is everything alright?" Trish asked, observing Carrie carefully, a worried expression on her face._

 _Carrie nodded her head. A slight smile appeared on her lips, but it was gone as soon as she spoke up. "Yeah, sure," she said, sounding sincere but still somewhat worried. "I... I'm just tired, that's all. Don't worry about it."_

 _"Understandable," Trish agreed, nodding her head as she sat down, next to her friend. She smiled, her eyes meeting Carrie's. "You were great, by the way. Today, at the practice. The whole act was just right. I'm sure you'll do even better at the game."_

 _"Thanks," Carrie replied, blushing. "You were great too."_

 _"Well, you learned from me," Trish replied, grinning. Carrie just nodded her head, blush creeping up her cheeks._

 _Trish pouted, tilting her head to the side. "Come on," she teased, grinning. "Smile. It won't hurt you."_

 _Carrie chuckled, her lips finally forming into a wide, bright smile._

 _"That's right," Trish exclaimed, chuckling. She shifted in her seat, giving Carrie a warm, compassionate look. "I'm sure everything will work out fine, Carrie."_

 _"I sure hope so," Carrie said, sighing._

 _"Just relax," Trish advised her, tapping her on the shoulder. "You're doing your best."_

 _Meanwhile, on the other side of the bus, three boys-Jim Haaser, Danny Jennings and Kevin Davis-were peeking over their seats, observing Carrie and Trish, grinning as they did._

 _"That's it, I'm gonna ask her out," Jim said, excitement evident in his voice, his face flushed, his eyes focused on Trish. "I'm sure of it."_

 _"Just like you were sure the previous ten times?" Kevin teased him, chuckling._

 _"I believe in you, Jim," Danny added jokingly, shifting in his seat._

 _"Oh, it's on," Jim maintained, a wide smile appearing on his face."Right after the game tonight..."_

 _"Make sure we win first," Danny warned him, smiling never the less._

 _"You all make sure of that," their coach, Jacob Stiller, suddenly added; sounding strangely irritated yet amused at the same time. "And stay away from any distractions, even the ones merely in your mind."_

 _"With these two AND me?" Kevin exclaimed, glancing at his friends. "That's pretty much guaranteed, coach," he said before fist-bumping Jim and Danny._

 _Suddenly, a loud bang was heard, the school bus jumping up for a moment, followed by a screeching sound, and a sudden drop in speed. Everyone flinched, their eyes widening. Some cheerleaders gasped. Jacob Stiller frowned, looking through the bus windows, trying to see what caused the sudden maneuver. Jason did his best to continue driving, clearly surprised and worried by the situation, but he eventually had to pull over._

 _"What happened, Jason?" Jacob asked him, clearly concerned._

 _"Probably a flat tire," Jacob said, already getting up and heading outside. "Stay calm, everyone. I'm going to check it out."_

 _Jacob quickly exited the bus, walked over to the hood and kneeled down, while everyone else was peeking outside, watching intently. Soon enough, Jason called out:_

 _"Yup, just a flat. Well, maybe a tire blowout..." Several students groaned. Jacob sighed, leaning back in his seat and rubbing his forehead. Jason rushed to calm them down and fully explain the situation. "There is a spare on the bus, I've got a tire iron," he informed them, straightening himself up. "Don't worry, we'll be on back on our way in a few minutes."_

 _"I'm gonna help you," Jacob decided, standing up and heading out of the bus, rolling his sleeves up as he did._

 _#_

 _The school bus lied stranded on the middle of the road, its right front tire blown out. Jason dead body was lying face-up on the asphalt, right next to the bus, his neck and face covered with blood, his right eye missing due to the vicious attack. Few feet down the road was the dead body of the football coach, Jacob Stiller. His neck was practically ripped apart, covered with blood and chunks of flesh. His face remained frozen in terror, his eyes dull and lifeless._

 _Sometime later, several uniformed police officers were searching the woods surrounding the area. Suddenly, they stopped in their tracks, gasping in horror as they spotted Carrie Willson's dead body lying face up on the ground, in front of the big elm tree, a giant cut spreading from her belly button up to her neck, the ground and near by trees covered with her blood, her gut falling out of her abdomen. One of the officers groaned before stepping aside and emptying the content of his stomach into some bushes._

 _A short time later, in a different part of the forest, about two miles north, a different group of police officers stopped in front of the deep ditch, noticing body lying on the bottom, face-down, his head bashed in and covered with blood and brain matter, resting against the big rock on the bottom of the ditch._

 _And, a short time later, a few miles away, several police officers discovered a headless body impaled to the large oak_ _tree, a giant metal rod having ripped through the victim's gut. There were no gasps, nor screams. Just a dead silence._

 _#_

 _Over three years later, five homicide detectives walked down the evidence locker and put five case boxes on the shelf, next to one another. STILLER, J.; VOILES, J.; WILLSON, C.; HAASER, J.; and JENNINGS, D. Each dated October 29th 1997. Each marked "UNSOLVED". Detectives sighed heavily and took one last look at the boxes before turning around and walking away._

#

Lilly took a sip of coffee, frowning as she looked around, studying the precinct's decour. Somebody had put up all those Halloween decorations recently; especially in the hallways, for some reason. She was about to head into the workroom when she was approached by her boss, John Stillman, who was holding a case file.

"New cold job," he notified her, a concerned look on his face and a sense of urgency in his voice. "A big one."

"Just what we need for All Hallow's Eve," Lilly commented, smirking.

"Three days ago, water workers were examining some pipes going under the small park in Old City," Stillman explained, handing the copy of the case file to Lilly. "Ended up digging out a human skull. It had been buried around four feet deep."

Lilly shivered, her eyes widening. "Sounds disturbingly... familiar," she admitted, then cracked open the file, rushing to learn all the details.

"Well, this wasn't the woman's skull, and there were no marbles in the eye sockets either," Stillmam said softly, trying to put Lilly's concerns at ease. "Medical examiner estimated the head had been buried there for over a decade. They ran the dental records and DNA profile through the missing persons' database. Found a match early this morning, less than two hours ago. Seems like a job for us. 16-year-old Danny Jennings, murdered back in '97, the head was missing. Until now."

"The name sounds familiar," Lilly noted as she looked up from the case file, a frown appearing on her face.

"It should," Stillman replied. "Do you remember the "1997 Halloween Massacre", also known as the "1997 Monster Attack"?"

"Who doesn't?" Lilly exclaimed. "It was all over the news for weeks. I can't recall all the names involved though."

Stillman sighed. "Well, Danny Jennings was one of the victims," he explained. "This discovery is a new lead. We have to reopen the case," he stated as he and Lilly approached the workroom, ready to inform the rest of the team about the case.

#

Soon enough, the whole team was in the workroom, studying their copies of the case files, the case boxes laying on the middle of the table, the seal finally broken. Lilly and Stillman stood in the center of the room, right next to the board, giving the summation of the case.

"On October 29th 1997, Philadelphia's High school football team, "The Crows", were in the school bus, on their way to the big game that was supposed to take place that night at the gymnasium downtown," Stillman started, looking up from the case file. "Their parents were waiting for them there, as well as their friends, girlfriends, even some local reporters. Eleven football players, seven cheerleaders, the football coach and the bus driver."

"The crime actually took place two days before Halloween," Scotty noted. "But "Halloween Massacre" sells better."

"It's October 28th today; the 13th anniversary is approaching," Kat noted. "How... fitting."

"Their route eventually led them on to the isolated road, passing through the Ridley Creek State Park," Nick read. "The road surrounded with large forest, nobody else around... even I can see where this is going."

"When they were halfway back to the... urban area, the bus had a tire blowout; or so it seemed," Lilly continued, still feeling somewhat uncomfortable. "The right front tire. The driver and the coach tried replacing the tire, but the spare tire turned out to be faulty too. They tried to call for help through the radio, but it was broken. They could have tried driving on a flat tire, but they decided it was too risky, since the road was pretty numpy. And it was '97, so nobody had a cellphone. Not even the adults. Anyway, the night soon fell down. And, soon afterwards, the students reported seeing a "shadow monster" walk out of the near by forest, and stand on the middle of the road, in front of the bus."

"Shadow monster?" Kat exclaimed, shuddering.

"That is how they described it... him," Lilly clarified, clearly feeling uneasy herself. "Really tall, bulky, dressed in a long black coat and baggy brown pants, with a big brown hat on his head. They couldn't see his face clearly, because it was dark outside, and his head was partially concealed and shadowed by the hat, but several witnesses claimed that his face looked horribly deformed, disfigured... covered with scars, some sort of unnatural, greenish/brown color, red eyes..."

"Anyway, the football coach, Jacob Stiller, 40, went to confront the... stranger, a tire iron in his hand," Stillman explained, rushing to move the case along. "The students and the driver urged him not to, but he was adamant. He approached that... "monster", some words were exchanged (nobody could hear what, exactly)..."

"And then the monster grabbed mr. Stiller by the neck, leaned over and, according to the witness statements, ripped his throat out," Scotty read, his eyes widening.

"The autopsy report is... unclear when it comes to that theory," Llly explained, flipping through her copy of the case file. "Jacob Stiller definitely died due to exsanguination, and there was a horrific damage to the neck area, but it could have easily been made by a very big knife. Determining the exact type of the weapon was almost impossible, because most of the wounds overlapped, and all of them were pretty ripped, possibly due to the blade not being sharp enough."

"None of the witnesses mentioned the murderer wielding any kind of weapon, though," Scotty noted, raising his eyebrows.

"It was dark, they all saw it... him from inside the bus, quite a distance away, it all happened pretty fast, and was very violent and shocking," Stillman pointed out. "I wouldn't be surprised if they simply didn't notice the knife."

"Once the coach was down, the "monster" looked up, at the bus and the students aside, stared at them for a few moments... with red, glowing eyes, according to some of the more detailed witness statements... and then started approaching them," Nick read, feeling goose bumps.

"Yikes," Kat exclaimed, gulping. "Just... yikes."

"Once again, no mention of a knife, but plenty of students recalled seeing blood drip down the "monster's" hands and arms," Lilly continued. "Players and cheerleaders got off the bus and started running into the near by woods. But the bus driver, Jason Voiles, 28, decided to stay, and fight the killer."

"Most of the students were already on the run once the things went down, so there are no clear, detailed accounts on what transpired, exactly", Stillman explained. "From what the detectives were able to piece together, Jason pulled out a switchblade and launched himself at the killer, trying to stab him. The murderer dodged the attack and punched Jason in the face, hard, knocking him down on the ground, and causing him to drop the switchblade. The killer then kicked the weapon away, and launched himself at Jason. Once again, nobody got a clear look at the killer's weapon, nor his face. It was dark, and they were all too busy running for their lives. But once the killer let go of Jason, about ten seconds after the attack, Jason was no longer moving, and his face and neck were covered with blood."

"Jason Voiles sustained two deep stab wounds to the neck area," Lilly read, feeling herself shiver. "One of them severed the aorta. The third stab wound went right through his right eye. Death due to exsanguination, just like the coach. The murder weapon was never found, nor even positively identified."

"Some students staid in groups, lots of them split up, every man for himself," Stillman informed the rest of the team. "Most of them eventually reached several family homes downtown, and asked for help. Several found a payphone at the side of the road going through the woods, about five miles away from the murder scene. They called 911, and hid in the near by truck stop restroom until the help arrived. Police was on the scene within two hours of the incident."

"Six players and three cheerleaders were soon accounted for," Scotty recalled, pacing around the room. "Eight were still missing. Police canvassed the woods surrounding the murder scene. Five of the students were found in the woods, alive and well (physically, at least). They were still hiding from the monster when the help arrived, or they simply got lost. The remaining three were also found in the woods... dead."

"Carrie Wilson, 16, cheerleader, found dead in the woods, about half a mile away from the stretch of the road where the bus got stranded at," Lilly read, pulling out Carrie's photograph before walking over and plastering it on the board for everyone to see. "Probably the first of the three to get murdered. She had been eviscerated," she said before rushing to put Jacob's and Jason's photographs up on the board too, as well as write down some case notes underneath. "Death due to severe internal injuries, massive blood loss and shock," she added, feeling a surge of nausea.

"All three, huh?" Vera commented, groaning.

"Jim Haase, 16, a football player," Stillman resumed, while Lilly was still putting the victim's photographs and writing down some basic info on the board. "Found dead on the bottom of a ditch, two miles north of the location where Carrie Willson's body was found. Cracked skull. Cause of death was severe brain injury. Other than that, no injuries were recovered on his body, except for minor contussions, consistent with the fall. No defense wounds, nothing under his fingernails, no evidence of torture or sexual assault, all tox screens came back clean, no usable shoe prints found around the ditch, other than his own. The official ruling is that he was running away from the killer through the woods, accidentally ran into the ditch (or slipped and fell), landed on some rocks and cracked his skull. Still, given the circumstances, it is safe to consider that a murder also."

"And Danny Jennings, 16, also a football player, found five miles away, east," Lilly concluded, putting his photograph up on the board also. "Probably the last one to die. He had been impaled to the big oak tree with a sharp metal rod, and decapitated post-mortem. The head was never found... until three days ago."

"Stored the DNA profile and dental records in missing person's database; though it was more of a missing body part," Scotty read. "And it remained missing for close to thirteen years."

"That massacre was huge news back in 1997," Stillman recalled, turning to face the team. "Detectives worked their asses off. Interrogated hundreds of people, canvassed the area two times since the night of the murder and the original canvass. Forensics and the M.E.s were working around the clock. The tip line received over two thousand calls within the first forty-eight hours. Eventually, they even put up a 100 000$ dollars reward for any kind of information that could lead to the developments in the investigation. Over five thousand calls came to the tip line within a day of the reward being put out. But ultimately, it all led nowhere. It took them three years, but in 2000, detectives had no choice but to officially classify the "1997 Halloween Massacre" a cold case."

"This is arguably Philadelphia's most notorious cold case, not to mention the creepiest," Jeffries pointed out, a solemn look on his face.

"Arguably?" Nick commented, looking up from the case file.

"Some say that the murder site is still haunted," Scotty said, sounding both nervous and kind of excited at the same time. "Or that the monster is still preying in the surrounding woods. Or both. That stretch of the road was closed for traffic following the murders. It remains closed til this day. Nobody wanted to use it since then, anyway."

"Well, it's about time to catch that monster," Lilly decided, sounding determined, intrigued... and creeped out at the same time.

~OPENING ROLES AND CREDITS~


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I don't own any of the "Cold Case" characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

 **Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

 **I apologize for the late update. I actually planned to publish chapter two on Halloween, but life got in the way, and I've been pretty busy lately. But here it is.**

Soon, all the detectives were at their desks, going through their copies of the case files, trying to find any leads they could pursue almost thirteen years later. Lilly was still standing next to the board; flipping through her case file, looking up at the board, then focusing back on the file, and so on.

"Even the FBI investigated this case for a while," Scotty noted. "And got nowhere."

"Little to no forensic evidence," Lilly read, flipping through the forensic reports. "The murder weapon was never found. All the blood found on the scene belonged to the victims. The same with all the usable fingerprints lifted from the school bus. Forensics did find several usable, fresh shoe prints in the woods though. Size twelve. Pretty deep too. They estimated that whoever made them weighed at least 250 pounds. They also found fresh tire tracks at the side of the road, half a mile away from the murder scene. Must have been made by some kind of van, but the tracks weren't clear enough for the exact made and model to be determined. A bloody axe was found in a ditch, a mile away from the place where Danny Jennings' body was found. Tool marks matched to the damage inflicted to the neck. All the blood on the axe was confirmed to be Danny's. No usable fingerprints or distinctive marking found on the axe."

"After examinining the school bus, forensics also determined that the front left tire had most likely been shot through," Scotty noted. "Sabotage. Somebody wanted the school bus to end up stranded on that stretch of the road."

"Somebody who must have known the route," Jeffries pointed out.

"The bullet was a through and through," Kat read, pacing around the room. "Forensics searched the area multiple times, used metal detectors and police dogs, but they never found the bullet. They found several bullets and shell casings in the woods, but they were all pretty rusty, and none were found close to the road. They were probably left by the local hunters before the hunting season ended." She frowned, stopping in her tracks. "You know, I watched that forensic science program a while back. These days, they can determine the bullet's projectory with these physics calculations, 3D reconstruction, lasers... pretty accurately too. Maybe they can give this another try. I mean, I highly doubt the bullet is still there, almost thirteen years ago. And even if it is, it is probably way too coroded for a conclusive ballistic analysis. But it can't hurt to try."

"Forensics did find a burner phone on the asphalt, under the school bus," Lilly noted. "They suspected that the killer might have dropped it."

"Damn, those must have been rare back in '97," Vera commented. "Not to mention expensive."

"And heavy," Jeffries added.

"Seems like somebody really needed it," Vera concluded.

"Phone records showed that all the calls on it had been received from, or made to another burner phone," Stillman read, frowning. "The first call dated back three weeks prior to the murders, the last one mere half an hour before the murders. And, according to the phone records, the only calls that the other burner phone had ever made or received were all traced back to that first burner phone. Techs tried tracking the other phone's signal, came up with nothing. It must have been broken or turned off shortly after the murders."

"Sales records show that both phones were purchased in a convenience store located half a mile away from High school," Nick explained. "No records of the buyer; he or she must have paid in cash. The owner couldn't remember who made the purchase, and the store had no security cameras."

"No usable fingerprints were recovered on the phone," Kat said, a disappointed look on her face. "Forensics recovered some skin cells on the cellphone screen and its keys, but back in 1997, there was not enough genetic material for a complete DNA analysis."

"Well, times have changed," Stillman pointed out. "Tell them to process the samples."

"Forensics also found a sports bag in the woods, close to Carrie Willson's body," Scotty noted, shifting in his seat. "It contained a set of flex cuffs, a big roll of duct tape, a polaroid camera, twenty plastic bottles filled with water, and a big stake knife, though there was no evidence that it had been used in the murders. And a key. It was never determined what could be opened with it."

"Sounds like a failed abduction," Lilly concluded.

"Failed mass abduction," Jeffries added, looking up at her. "Nobody prepares that many items and strands the school bus full of teenagers on the isolated stretch of the road just to abduct one person."

"Abducting a bus full of teenagers?" Scotty exclaimed. "Sounds like a crazy move."

"Well, given the nature of the murders..." Nick commented, grimacing.

"And who would the abductor-or abductors-demand the ransom from?" Kat wondered.

"Parents," Stillman suggested. "Some of those teenagers came from pretty wealthy families."

"Or the school board," Nick theorized. "Maybe even the mayor. Maybe even all three sources at the same time. Eighteen abducted teenagers, plus the coach and the bus driver. That's a huge bargaining chip. And from what I've heard, though never personally experienced, the economy was great back in the 90s."

"A mass abduction of that type took place in Chowchilla, back in 1976," Lilly reminisced, frowning. "Three guys abducted a bus full of children, ages 5 to 14. 27 victims, including the driver. They basically buried them alive in the local quarry, then tried to contact the city administration's office and demand a ransom. However, the phone line collapsed due to all the calls and tips about the missing children, and the call couldn't get through. The victims eventually managed to bury themselves out, with the help of the bus driver, and alert the authorities."

"But if this was really supposed to be an abduction, it failed, and ended in bloodshed," Scotty reasoned. "Why?"

"Coach Stiller approached the guy, words were exchanged," Kat reminded him. "Maybe he recognized him. The guy panics, attacks him..."

"Rips his throat out..." Scotty added, smirking.

"Slits his throat," Lilly maintained, glaring at him.

"Kids see it, panic, rush outside, try to escape," Vera continued. "They have nowhere to head to or hide but the woods."

"The bus driver stays, attacks the killer, tries to fight him off, ends up getting killed too," Jeffries concluded.

"But why would the killer track down Carrie Willson and Danny Jennings, and murder them too?" Lilly asked.

"Maybe he thought they had seen too much as well," Jeffries suggested.

"But why do it in such a gruesome, brutal, as well as time-consuming way?" Lilly wondered out loud. "He must have had the rifle. Even if he didn't want to shoot them to death, in order to avoid alerting the escaping victims to his location, there must have been easier ways."

"Intimidation tactic," Stillman suggested. "He knew he couldn't have caught them all. A way to keep potential witnesses silent."

"Or maybe he was just a sicko," Vera suggested, leaning back in his seat. "His motive for abducting a bus full of teenagers might not have been entirely financial."

"Despite the lack of conclusive evidence, detectives had four strong suspects," Stillman pointed out, walking towards the board again.

"So, there was more than one person they thought was capable of doing something like that?" Scotty commented, wincing.

"The first one was Freddy Keller, the English teacher who used to work at the school," Lilly read, approaching the board herself, studying the first photograph on the left, with Freddy Keller's name written underneath. "He was put on an unpaid leave a week prior to the murders, after it was revealed that he had been having an affair with one of his underage students. That student, 16-year old Wendy Teller, was one of the cheerleaders who were on the school bus that night. She survived, but she later refused to testify against Freddy, and the charges were dropped."

"All that stress must have been too much for her," Kat concluded.

"Or maybe she was afraid," Vera suggested.

"Maybe she was the intended target all along," Jeffries pondered.

"Well, the school board still fired Freddy soon after the murders," Stillman informed them.

"At the time, Freddy Keller owned the van, consistent with the tire tracks found near the murder scene," Lilly revealed, taking another look at the case file in her hands. "However, the tire tracks weren't clear enough for an exact match to be made."

"Didn't have much of an alibi either," Vera noted, studying the police report. "Claimed he was at home, sleeping. His wife was the only one to confirm it."

Scotty groaned, cringing. "I hate when their spouses defend them."

"Forensics found fresh traces of dirt and grass on the van's tires," Vera mentioned. "Seemed consistent with the elimination samples taken from the woods. But the sample wasn't big enough for an exact match to be made. Maybe it is the time to reanalyze the evidence. See what they can come up with today."

"Do we know how that whole affair was discovered?" Kat wondered.

"That's an interesting one," Jeffries revealed, looking up from the case file. "Somebody mailed a letter to the principal, anonymously. The letter detailing the accusations. It also contained photographs and motel receipts confirming the claims. It was never revealed who sent it. Once Wendy was confronted with the evidence, she admitted to the relationship. That was more than enough."

"Second suspect was Sam Winthrop, twenty three years old at the time," Stillman read, shifting his attention to the second photograph on the board. "He lived two blocks away from school. Diagnosed schizophrenic with a history of violence. Several students confirmed that he would sometimes yell at them and threaten them when they would walk home from school, accusing them of various things they had not done. Sam denied any involvement in the murders, but couldn't provide an alibi. He claimed he had been at home, sleeping. Alone. Didn't own a van, though."

"According to these records, back in '97, Sam lived only half a mile away from the park where Danny Jennings' head was recently found," Kat noticed.

"Sam was institutionalized three months after the murders, following a mental breakdown," Scotty read, sighing. "He was released a year later."

"Police records also show that a gun store, located a mile away from Sam Winthrop's apartment, was burglarized a week before the murders," Lilly read, raising her eyebrows. "The burglar didn't even touch the safe deposit box, and he only stole the following: Rouger 10/22 rifle, amunition and cleaning kit for that rifle, a hunting knife and a taser. No evidence, no leads; the burglary went unsolved."

"Suspect number 3," Lilly resumed. "Brenda Sanders, 25 at the time. Worked as a waitress at the McDonald's located close to the school. Plenty of students would go there after classes or during the lunch break, including the victims. The background check revealed Brenda's... interesting history."

"Grew up in Derry, Maine," Stillman explained, reading the information written on the board. "Abusive father, killed Brenda's mother and then himself when Brenda was ten. She kept bouncing around from foster home to foster home. Moved to Philadelphia after graduating High school. Soon built up a long criminal record for theft, burglary, threats, assault... She once cut up a woman over a spilled drink. Was on probation at the time of the murders."

"And they let her work in the McDonald's located next to High school?" Kat exclaimed.

"Well, technically, it wasn't on school grounds, she wasn't a registered sex offender, and none of her crimes involved minors," Jeffries explained, going through the case notes. "They still fired her soon after the murders, though. Probably afraid of the bad publicity."

"Or Brenda herself," Scotty pondered.

"Brenda also worked part time at the prop house," Kat remarked. "Plenty of costumes there."

"Interesting enough, a janitor recalled Brenda tresspassing on the school grounds, ten days before the murders," Nick read. "He kicked her out. Prosecution decided not to pursue it, though."

"Brenda also denied any involvement, but she also could provide no alibi," Lilly continued. "Claimed she was home alone, sleeping. She also claimed she had gone to school the week before because she was looking for two kids who went to the McDonald's during the lunch break, and took off without paying. Still, in her case, the judge ruled that there was no sufficient basis for a search warrant."

"If Jacob had been at that McDonald's before, that might explain how he recognized her," Jeffries suggested.

"According to his friends and family, Jacob never went to that place," Kat read. "He despised junk food."

"And Ahiga Nez, 40 at the time," Jeffries read. "Native American man who lived in the cabin in the woods; the same woods one where most of the victims met their gruesome end. Danny Jennings' body was found mere three miles away. Nez had a history of alcohol abuse, and multiple convictions for assault. Spent over a decade in total in prisons and mental institutions. He denied any involvement in the murders. Didn't have an alibi."

"Police searched the cabin," Scotty continued, reading the police report. "They didn't find any evidence linking him to the murders, but they found a sharp metal rod and an axe, the same brand and size like the ones used to murder and mutilate Danny Jennings. They also found an unlicensed high-powered hunting rifle. Plenty of blood found on the rifle and the knife, as well as in the cabin and around it, but it was all revealed to be animals' blood. Nez was sentenced to three years in prison for an illegal possession of a firearm and poaching."

"Still, neither of those suspects weighed 250 pounds, nor had shoe size 12," Jeffries noted. "Especially not Brenda Sanders, who was quite slim."

"Well, those shoe prints could have also been a red herring, something that the killer had planted in order to set the police off the track," Lilly suggested. "And it is also possible that the killer had an accomplice. Hence that burner phone."

"But even so... we figured that the perp probably murdered Jacob Stiller because he had recognized him, or her," Kat reasoned. "But if those witness statements were genuine, the killer must have been heavily disguised."

"The masks often fail to completely conceal the neck area," Lilly pointed out. "Maybe Jacob noticed some distinctive marking there, recognized it, confronted the killer..."

"Sadly, that still doesn't exclude any of the suspects," Scotty said with a sigh, picking up the case file again. "Freddy Keller had a port-wine birthmark on the left side of his neck, spreading down to his shoulder. Sam Winthrop had a pretty nasty scar going from his left ear down to his throat. A result of an unsuccessful suicide attempt when he was seventeen. Brenda Sanders had a snake tattoo, covering almost the entire left side of her neck. And Ahiga Nez had a large scar on his right cheek, spreading down his neck. Reminder of a nasty bar fight back from '92."

"Track down all four suspects and interrogate them," Stillman ordered, turning away from the board. "What about the victims' families?"

"Jacob Stiller had a wife, Sarah Stiller, and a son, Gabe," Nick read. "I'm going to look them up. Carrie Willson was raised by a single mother, Amanda Willson. Amanda was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis three months prior to the murders. She died less than a year later. Her daughter's death must have been a final nail in the coffin. But, according to the police reports, Carrie was pretty close to one of the cheerleaders, Trish Jenkins. Trish was there that night too. Police found her hiding in the woods. She didn't speak for three days."

"I hope she'll speak now," Scotty muttered.

Lilly closed her copy of the file and looked up at her team members, appearing somewhat uncertain; conflicted. She remained silent for a few moments, but eventually spoke up anyway. "Seriously, though... do we know where George Marks was on October 29th 1997?" she asked, feeling herself shiver.

Everyone, including Stillman, looked up at her, eyes wide. It was like a freezing wind had just rushed through the workroom. Several tense, silent moment passed. Lilly gulped, feeling goose bumps.

"This doesn't really fit his M.O., Lilly," Stillman eventually said, walking over to Lilly.

Lilly nodded her head, but didn't abandon her theory. "I know, but still... the use of a rifle, victims being chased through the woods, one of the victims being decapitated, with the head buried on a secondary location... are we really not supposed to explore that possibility at all?" she questioned, looking him in the eyes.

Once again, silence, although a bit shorter. Stillman sighed, looking at the evidence board, and then back at Lilly again. "OK, we will look into it," he promised, noticing Lilly breathe a small sigh of relief. "But let's focus on those four original prime suspects first. Presumably, they are, at the very least, still alive."

#

Trish Jenkins led Lilly and Scotty into her office. She looked pretty much the same way she did back in '97; only a bit taller and clearly older. Her face was rather pale and drained. Her office was modest but nice; a black leather couch to the left, an armchair near by, a writing desk to the right, a case cabinet right next to it, and several awards on the wall. Trish sat down in her armchair, offering Lilly and Scotty the spot on the couch.

"You say you're from homicide?" she inquired, sounding genuinely concerned. "What do you have to talk to me about?"

Lilly remained silent for a moment, choosing her words carefully. "Ms. Jenkins, we actually work on cold cases, and we're here because of the... crime you witnessed back in 1997."

Trish flinched, something between fear and anger sparkling in her eyes, a grimace appearing on her face. "I don't want to talk about it," she whispered, looking away.

"We've re-opened the case," Scotty explained. "Danny Jennings' head was found buried in the park."

"And I already told everything I knew," Trish retorted, glaring at her. "Over a decade ago, to all those detectives. And FBI agents. Multiple times. If you want to learn what I know, go through the case files."

"Almost thirteen years have passed," Lilly pointed out. "Maybe you've since remembered something that you initially didn't recount."

Trish let out a heavy sigh, looking away for a moment. "That case has been on my mind every day since," she whispered, a weary look on her face. "Believe me, if there was anything else to remember, I would have recalled it at some point. And I would have contacted the authorities."

"OK," Lilly said softly, nodding her head. "Then maybe you're now ready to reveal something that you... weren't comfortable discussing back in '97."

"I'm not a liar."

"I never said that you were," Lilly clarified. "But you were a teenage girl, scared, traumatized..."

"Still am," Trish replied, letting out a bitter chuckle. "That's why I'm trying to help other teenagers like me. Of course, I rarely encounter someone with such a... bizarre traumatic experience. But even so, some of the stories I hear here... enough to make your blood boil and stomach twist at the same time."

"Look, we need to investigate every possible lead, and we really want to close this case," Scotty tried, looking Trish in the eyes. "And I'm sure you'd like finally seeing it closed too. The killer being brought to justice."

Trish scoffed, shaking her head. "Noble intentions, I'll give you that. Too bad that whoever killed Carrie and the others wasn't human."

Lilly frowned. "Come on, Trish. You seem rational, composed. You're well educated. What you witnessed must have been terrifying, but..."

"You weren't there," Trish interrupted her, sounding irritated and scared at the same time. Her eyes were wide, her face pale and drained, tremors evident in her voice. "But I was. And I know what I saw. A monster. Whether it was a demon, alien, mutant or whatever... I don't know. But it wasn't human. It couldn't have been." She sighed, looking down at the floor for a moment. "Nobody believes me, of course. But I know the truth. That haunts me. Nobody will ever believe me, and human laws don't apply to that... thing."

"I'd bet you don't share that story very often," Lilly said gently, her eyes meeting Trish's.

"For obvious reasons," Trish retorted, swallowing a lump in her throat.

"And yet, you just shared it with us," Lilly pointed out. Trish shuddered, looking away.

"Despite everything that you claim, you want to talk to us, to help us," Lilly continued, her eyes focused on Trish. "So do that, Trish."

"Like I said, everything I knew..."

"Friends and family described Carrie as rather shy, studious type," Scotty started, flipping through his notepad. "No offense, but would I be correct to guess that she wasn't a typical... cheerleader?"

Trish smiled slightly, nodding her head. "True, that. But neither was I."

 _(Without Love by Donna Lewis)_

 _The practice was about to start. Cheerleaders, Trish Jenkins included, were standing close to the bleachers, talking and laughing. They only stopped once their gym teacher spoke up, walking over to them; with a teenage girl no older or younger than them following her. She was dressed in a T-shirt and gym shorts._

 _"Girls, meet a new candidate," the coach said, introducing the girl the girl. "Carrie Willson."_

 _"Hi," Carrie said shyly, waving to the cheerleaders standing in front of her._

 _"Hi, Carrie," several girls muttered, eying Carrie suspiciously, though Trish gave her a small smile. Their coach stepped aside to check some paperwork._

 _Carrie paced around, a small, shy smile appearing on her lips. Other cheerleaders observed her carefully. Some girls snickered at her._

 _"Are you gonna, you know, do something, or just stand here?" one of the cheerleaders spoke out, derision evident in her voice._

 _Carrie flinched, her eyes widening. "I-I'm about to..." she stammered, taken aback._

 _"It doesn't really look like it," other girl, Kimberly, scoffed._

 _Carrie beamed, trying to sound cheerful and confident. "I mean, I filed out the form, I've got this... uniform and pom poms. Well, not the uniform yet, no, but If I do well, I'm in."_

 _"I can't wait to see that," Kimberly retorted._

 _Carrie gulped, but stood her ground. "Well, you definitely won't have to wait for long," she said, looking Kimberly in the eyes._

 _Kimberly snickered, crossing her arms over her chest. "Thanks. I can't wait to have a good laugh."_

 _Carrie grimaced, her eyes burning through Kimberly's. "You don't have to wait for me," she spat out. "Go find a mirror."_

 _Several girls chuckled; others gasped. Kimberly and Cheryl gave Carrie a death stare, but she just stared back at them. After a few moments, they started approaching her, fury coloring their features. But Trish quickly stepped in between the girls and Carrie, keeping them at a distance. She turned to face Kimberly, looking her in the eyes. "Kimberly, remember how much you sucked when you first started?" she reminded her, her voice low but still loud enough for most of the other girls-probably Carrie too-to hear._

 _Kimberly groaned, her cheeks burning. "That was different," she hissed, glaring at Trish._

 _"I was there," Trish said mockingly. "I know what I saw." She turned to face Carrie, flashing her a warm, bright smile. Carrie smiled back, feeling herself blush. Their eyes met. "I can't wait to see your act."_

 _"Thanks," Carrie whispered._

 _Cheryl stepped over, glaring at Trish. "Are you seriously taking her side? Have you even met her?" she exclaimed, clearly offended._

 _"No, I haven't," Trish admitted, remaining calm and composed. "But I've noticed that you didn't even want to give her a chance. You get what you give. So calm down, please."_

 _Several tense moments passed. Eventually, Kimberly muttered "Whatever" and stepped away. Other girls also moved aside. Carrie and Trish exchanged another smile as the coach approached Carrie and handed her the pom poms._

"I will spare you the rest of the details," Carrie concluded with a sigh. "I don't want to associate good memories with... this case. But she was great. Just like I expected."

"So, she made the team," Lilly resumed, clasping her hands. "Other girls didn't bother her, didn't have problems with it?"

Tracy shook her head, recollection flashing over her face. "No. I made sure of that."

"You see, that is something you didn't mention back in '97," Lilly exclaimed, giving Trish a warm smile.

"Nobody asked me," Trish explained, shrugging. "Guess they didn't think that angle was relevant." "I knew that all along. Just didn't think it was important, myself. But as long as you're bothering me..."

"So, there were some problems at the beginning?" Scotty inquired, a curious look on his face.

"Yeah, at first. It was a bit tense. Other girls were pretty competitive. Mean. But I knew them. And I put a stop to it at the very beginning. No problems since. Not that I knew of, anyway."

"Sounds like you knew how to work them," Lilly commented, smiling.

Trish smiled back, despite her usually solemn demeanor. "Back then, I was smart, pretty, and flexible. Poor girls had no choice."

"What about Wendy Teller?" Scotty asked, shifting in his seat.

Trish sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Yeah, that was a mess. I mean, in months prior to... shit hitting the fan, we noticed that there was something... off about her. She became rather withdrawn, seemed kind of worried. We tried talking to her about it. She said it was nothing, that she was just worried about her grades. And she definitely had something to be worried about on that front, so... we didn't push it." Trish sighed, leaning back in her seat. "And then it turns out she had been sleeping with her English teacher. And then, two weeks later..." "But I didn't know any details about their... relationship, in case you're wondering."

"And you still kept her on the team?" Scotty inquired, frowning.

"Why not? That wasn't her fault. Freddy was the adult one, the mature one. The one in control. And it is not like the school suspended her or something." She sighed, a frown forming on her face. "Still, it was definitely awkward afterwards. Things started... looking up after a while. The big game was approaching. And then..." She let out a bitter chuckle, looking through the near by window. "Well. Maybe we were simply damned. Or doomed, whatever. I don't think there's much difference, anyhow."

"We will look into him too," Lilly promised.

Trish sighed, running her hands down her face, tears sparkling in her eyes. "I still dream about that night," she whispered. "At least once a month. I see it all, happening in front of my eyes, in vivid, gruesome, disgusting detail. The monster rips ms. Stiller's throat out, eviscarates Carrie... and all I can do is watch. I can't move or even scream. And then the monster starts approaching me. And I still can't do anything. Like I'm paralyzed. Frozen in place. And right before he-it can kill me... I wake up. Covered with cold sweat, gasping for breath, my heart pounding." She wiped away her tears and took a deep breath, her eyes meeting Lilly's again. "Sometimes I wish it had killed me too," she admitted. "It is not like I will see any justice, after all."

#

Sam Winthrop's apartment looked only a bit bigger than the one he lived in back in '93, but at least the new one was tidy and well-kept. Although clearly older and somewhat weary, the gruesome scar still visibly outlining his face, Sam actually appeared to have it together. He smiled politely at Lilly and Scotty as he sat down at the table, while they sat down on the opposite end, facing him.

"Look. I was in a... bad place back the," Sam admitted, his voice a mixture of shame and fear, sadness sparklinh in his eyes. "Mentally. I acted... bizarrely. Suspiciously. I probably scared some people. Those voices I'd hear, dark thoughts filling my mind, the nightmares..." He took a deep breath, looking up at Lilly and Scotty. "But I'm not a monster. I never killed anyone."

"We never said that you did," Scotty said softly, looking him in the eyes. "But we need to make follow-up interviews with all the suspects.

Sam nodded his head in a sign of understanding. "I'm doing much better now. I have a job, I've been taking medications, going to therapy... haven't been in a ward for almost seven years now."

"But you did yell at some students who were walking by your apartment, right?" Lilly pointed out. "Threatened them?"

"I guess," Sam admitted, nodding his head. "A lot of that is a blurr to me now. I was delusional. But I was only aggressive with words."

"So, you were watching them from your apartment, through the living room window?" Scotty questioned.

"Not them specifically," Sam explained, sighing. "I was kind of messed up back then. I spent most of my time sitting by a window, drinking beer and watching the street... the people outside."

"So, did you happen to notice something?" Scotty asked.

Sam frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Something suspicious, peculiar, out of place?" Scotty clarified. "Something involving those teenagers, that might help us with the investigation?"

Sam sighed, frowning. "Most of it was pretty boring stuff... kids walking home from school... teenagers messing around... teachers leaving their workplace..." He stopped for a moment, recollection flashing over his face. "Though there was that one time... about two weeks before the murders, I think... probably the only interesting thing that I saw-and heard..."

 _Sam rubbed his eyes before taking another sip of beer, and looking through the window again. He frowned upon noticing Jacob Stiller walking down the street, towards his car parked near by. Jacob was soon approached by a slightly shorter and younger dark-haired man, dressed in work clothes, with a port-wine birthmark on his neck. The man that Freddy would later recognize as Freddy Keller._

 _"Jacob!" Freddy exclaimed, walking over to him. "How is it going?"_

 _Jacob sighed, an uncomfortable look on his face. "I'm kind of in a hurry, Freddy."_

 _"Why?" Freddy asked, giving him a mocking smile. "Gonna get home to your wife, as soon as possible? Somehow I doubt that."_

 _"What do you want, Freddy?" Jacob hissed, glaring at him._

 _"I noticed you taking an interest in me," Freddy explained, his smile suddenly gone. "And the people I hang out with. Now I'm just returning the favor."_

 _"I know what you're doing, Freddy," Jacob said, every word dripping with rage and repulsion._

 _"You know, huh?" Freddy replied._

 _"Well, I have strong suspicions," Jacob said._

 _"But no evidence," Freddy pointed out._

 _"Not yet," Jacob retorted._

 _Freddy scoffed and looked around before taking a step closer to Jacob, lowering his voice as he spoke up. "You think you're the only person in school who notices things, Jacob?" Freddy said in an almost threatening tone, his eyes burning through Jacob's. "I'm not blind. I know all about you. Well, maybe not all... but I know about Jenny. And I know where you were last Friday. Maybe I should call your wife and tell her about it, hear what she has to say."_

 _Jacob gulped, gritting his teeth. "You son of a bitch."_

 _"You get what you give, Jacob," Freddy said, mocking him. "You stay out of my private life, and I will stay out of yours. Got it?"_

 _Jacob sighed, looking away, his fists clenched. Eventually, he just nodded his head, withholding a groan._

 _"You've been warned," Freddy said before turning around and walking away. Jacob looked after him for some time, then shook his head and continues his way towards his car, in the opposite direction._

"Over time, that somehow slipped my mind," Sam explained, sounding somewhat ashamed, disappointed. "And then all that stress over being suspected of murders... and that mental breakdown..." He sighed, looking down at the floor. "Eventually, I almost forgot about that case, no matter how notorious that was. And about what I saw. Maybe because I was trying to. I thought about sharing what I witnessed with the authorities, maybe even anonymously, but I was worried they wouldn't believe me, or that they would start looking into me again. But, since the case is still open, and you are trying to solve it..." He sighed, looking up at the detectives. "Anyway, that's all I know."

Scotty nodded his head, before turning to face Lilly. "Who's Jenny?" he wondered out loud.

"And what did Freddy have on Jacob?" Lilly asked.

"And vice-versa," Scotty added, sighing.

#

Brenda Sanders' office was quite big and well-decorated, with multiple nicely framed awards and expensive paintings on the walls; not to mention the computer on her beautiful mahagony writing desk, and a large plazma TV in the corner. She sighed as she sat down at her desk, while Nick Vera and William Jeffries sat down, opposite to her. Brenda didn't look much older than she had almost thirteen years ago. She was of average height and fit, with nice features, long blonde hair and brown eyes, dressed in a silk white blouse and a tight grey skirt, that snake tattoo still on her neck; big, dark and vivid.

"Homicide detectives, huh?" Brenda exclaimed, a worried expression on her face. "What happened? This is not about one of our clients, is it?"

Nick smirked, pulling out his notepad. "You remember the 1997 Halloween Massacre, Brenda?"

Brenda groaned, rolling her eyes. "That name is the thing of the past," she hissed, glaring at the detectives. "I am Annabel Draper now. And keep your voice down, please."

"Well, five dead people aren't a thing of the past," Vera countered, glaring back at her. "There's no statue of limitations on homicide. As a matter of fact, a couple of guys dug up Danny Jennings' head three days ago. From the park. New lead; case reopened. And you were the prime suspect back in the day."

"One of the prime suspects," Brenda corrected him. "There was that creep teacher, that nutjob living near the school..."

"Yeah, and our colleagues are tracking them down and re-interviewing them as we speak," Jeffries interrupted, putting an end to Brenda's diversion. "Sadly, we're stuck with you. And we know that you had a history of violence, that you worked near the school all five victims had a connection to, and that the janitor had to forcibly remove you from the premises ten days before the murders."

Brenda sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Look... Life had not been easy for me. I made some mistakes. Plenty of them. I'm not proud of that. But I served my time. And I never killed anyone. I'm not a monster. I was only at school because some punks had two burgers with extra fries where I worked, and took off without paying. My boss chewed me out on it, threatened to fire me. So..."

"So you decided to do what, exactly?" Nick inquired. "Track them down, rough them up a little?"

"Threaten to report them to the police unless they paid," Brenda claimed. "Or, at the very least, the principal."

"And I'd bet you don't know their names, and can't provide a detailed description," Jeffries commented.

"Of course! That happened almost thirteen years ago!" Brenda cried.

"Actually, I was referring to the statement you made to the police less than two weeks after the alleged incident," Jeffries explained, smirking.

"Well, I never saw them there before, or after," Brenda said.

"But you still went looking for them," Nick pointed out. "You planned to, what, recognize them by scent?"

"If I had seen them again, I would have recognized them," Brenda maintained.

"Your boss was unable to confirm your claims too," Jeffries added.

"Well, he was kind of dumb. And he didn't like me much."

"Convicted felons usually aren't well-liked," Jeffries commented. Brenda shot him a glare.

"That's a nice business you've got here, Brenda," Nick remarked, looking around. "Great private office too."

"Convicted felon opens a security company," Jeffries commented. "That's... quite fitting, actually."

"Gee, thanks," Brenda replied, every word dripping with sarcasm.

"You must have needed plenty of money, funding, to start this up," Nick continued.

"Yeah, so?" Brenda exclaimed, shrugging.

"Well, there have been some theories that the 1997 Halloween Massacre was actually a failed mass abduction. For ransom," Jeffries explained, his eyes meeting Brenda's.

"Did you miss the part where nobody got abducted, the police arrived on the scene within two hours, and there were no reports of any ransom demands?" Brenda retorted, clearly annoyed.

"I see you're married, too," Nick noticed, glancing at the wedding ring on Brenda's finger.

Brenda smiled proudly. "Seven years and counting."

"He a rich man?" Nick asked.

"Cardiologist," Brenda answered, grinning. "Can't complain."

"The sign out front says that you opened this company back in 2000; ten years ago," Nick countered, glaring at her. "So I doubt he financed it a decade ago, before you two were even married. Before you even started dating, I'd bet. Unless you had a really long, committed relationship. And somehow, I doubt that."

Brenda scoffed. "Look, I earned that money fair and square. You can check."

"We will," Jeffries promised her. "Does your husband know about your... past? How about your clients? I mean, for an innocent person, you've put some serious effort into covering your tracks. You moved to Manhattan, changed your name..."

Brenda groaned, a disgusted look on her face. "This is outrageous. You've got nothing on me. If you want to hassle someone, look into that creep Keller."

"Any particular reason you keep mentioning him?" Nick questioned, smirking. "Or are you just desperate to throw the suspicion off yourself?"

Brenda bit her lower lip, shifting in her seat. "Look, I only know what I saw," she said, lowering her voice.

"Well, it is probably about time you share that with us, since you never mentioned anything about Freddy Keller during the original investigation," Nick advised her, starting to sound pretty annoyed himself.

Brenda sighed, leaning back in her seat. "Look, I figured the cops weren't gonna believe me anyway. And I didn't want to risk that nutjob finding out that I ratted on him. But if you guys are still going to hassle me about that, I might as well tell everything I know. But remember: you didn't get this from me."

"Your secret is safe with us," Nick assured her. "Now spill."

"Look. I couldn't find those punks. I even consider going into the teacher's longue and ask around, make up some story, hoping to learn something useful. I ended up... witnessing something that I definitely didn't expect."

 _(Touch, Peel and Stand by Days of the New)_

 _Brenda just walked by two teenagers holding hands and some girl running down the hallway, several heavy books under her arm. She sighed, rolling her eyes. She thought about asking someone about those kids, but she doubted anyone would remember those two punks, let alone be willing to share that information with her._

 _Her eyes widened as her gaze landed on the near by door. There was a sign on it, reading "TEACHER'S LONGUE". She considered it for a moment, then shrugged and grabbed the door knob. Maybe one of the teachers could help her find those kids._

 _She only opened the door halfway before stopping in her tracks, the color leaving her face. There were only two people inside. A tall, dark-haired, middle aged man; clearly a teacher. And a petite brunette, no older than 16; undoubtedly a student. They were kissing, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, while his hands rested on her lower back, occasionally reaching down to touch her rear. They both sighed once they finally pulled away, their faces flushed. The girl bit her lower lip and looked away for a moment. Brenda didn't recognize them, but she would later recognize both people from the news; the girl as Carrie Willson, and the man as Freddy Keller._

 _"I... I need to go now," Freddy muttered, his voice low and trembling. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You too," he commented before chuckling. "We both have classes to go to."_

 _Carrie giggled, stepping aside slowly, as Freddy's hands slid off her body. She looked up at him, eyes wide. "Tonight at your place? At nine pm?"_

 _Freddy grinned at her. His smile made Brenda's stomach twist. "No changes there. Just like we planned. My wife is at her parents in Long Island, won't be back in two days."_

 _"You sure about that?" Carrie asked, sounding concerned._

 _Freddy's grin widened. "One hundred percent."_

 _"Great," Carrie commented, and began to walk away. Brenda shuddered, and stepped away. Before Carrie could reach the door, Freddy grabbed her arm, hard. Carrie whimpered, turning to face him._

 _"And not a word about this," he hissed, glaring at her. "To anyone. Not even your best friend. Got it?"_

 _Carrie nodded her head, groaning silently. "Got it."_

 _Freddy smiled, letting go of her arm. "Good girl," he muttered before slapping her butt._

 _Brenda silently closed the door, turned around and quickly made her way down the hallway._

"I'm surprised they didn't notice me. Must have really been into it," Brenda commented, a disgusted look on her face. "I later saw them on the news. First her, then him... I recognized them instantly. Carrie Willson. And Freddy Keller. When the news broke out that he had been having an affair with one of his student, and was suspended a week prior to the murders, I honestly thought they were talking about Carrie. I had no idea about that other girl. And that's all I know," Brenda concluded with a sigh. "The janitor kicked me out soon afterwards."

"Looks like Freddy wasn't only involved with Wendy Teller," Nick said, exchanging a look with Jeffries.

"Maybe Carrie was an intended target after all," Jeffries suggested.

"Two birds with one stone."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I don't own any of the "Cold Case" characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

 **Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

 **I really apologize for the last update. I've been very busy lately, and I had a bit of a writer's block with this story. But I'm back now. I hope you'll like this chapter.**

Lilly and Scotty spotted Freddy Keller in his yard, mowing the lawn. He was dressed in a baggy white T-shirt, pale ripped jeans and black sneakers. He didn't look much older than in 1997, though he had put on some weight and had a few more lines on his face. His wife, Meghan, was standing in the opposite part of the yard, planting red roses in the small garden surrounded by a neat rock circle. She was dressed in a pink T-shirt and blue shorts, and had red work gloves over her hands. Scotty and Lilly stopped a short distance away, observing the couple carefully. Neither Freddy nor Meghan seemed to notice them at first.

"Freddy Keller?" Lilly called out, causing Freddy to stop and turn the lawn mower off as he turned to face them. Meghan also stopped and looked up at them, her face rigid.

"One and only," Freddy exclaimed, grinning as he walked over to them. Meghan gave them a reserved, slightly suspicious look, and stayed aside, eyeing them curiously.

"Homicide," Lilly explained, as she and Scotty flashed their badges. "Detectives Rush and Valens."

"Huh," Freddy exclaimed, stopping in his tracks. "Haven't seen you guys in a while. I mean, not you in particular, but..." He chuckled, putting his hands on his hips. "Why are you here?"

"We suspect you already have a pretty good idea," Lilly said calmly, looking him in the eyes.

Freddy smirked, his smile fading away. "Yeah, unless I hear it from you, this conversation stops right now," he said confidently, staring right back at Lilly.

"Halloween massacre?" Scotty explained, trying to hide his annoyance. "Ring a bell?"

Freddy raised his eyebrows, remaining silent for a moment. "That was over a decade ago," he exclaimed, almost sounding genuinely surprised. He frowned. "Didn't they catch some nutjob who confessed to the murders or something?"

"No, they didn't," Scotty clarified, shaking his head. "But you were a prime suspect back then. And you still are."

"Hey, I already told everything I knew," Freddy reminded them. "Multiple times. Look it up."

"Well, things have changed since then, Freddy," Lilly pointed out.

"How so?" Freddy inquired, a hint of a taunt, even mockery, heard in his voice.

"Danny Jennings' head turned up," Lilly explained, raising her voice up a little. "Well, skull, to be exact. Found buried in a public park. That's why we have reopened the case."

"And what does that have to do with me?" Freddy wondered.

"Well, some new leads have turned up," Scotty informed him. "And they all lead back to you."

"Is that right?" Freddy commented more than asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah," Lilly continued. "We now have a reason to believe that, in addition to sleeping with Wendy Teller, you were also having an affair with another one of your students. Carrie Willson. One of the teenagers who got killed that night."

Freddy scoffed. "Please! I never touched either of them."

"It was her word against his!" Meghan maintained, walking over to Lilly and Scotty. She sounded frustrated and bitter at the same time. "Nothing more."

"And all those photos and receipts that the school board received," Lilly reminded her, shooting her a glare.

"All forgeries, or taken out of context, compiled and sent by God-knows-who," Meghan replied readily, glaring back at her. Lilly fought the urge to roll her eyes. She just looked away, grinding her teeth.

"We also learned that you had an altercation with another one of the victims, Jacob Stiller, shortly before you got fired," Scotty added, ignoring Freddy's remarks, as well as his wife's.

"Who told you this crap?" Freddy questioned, his lips twisting into a snarl.

"We are not in liberty to say," Lilly said calmly, glancing at Meghan for a moment.

Freddy's smugness was back. "Well, you get what you give," he replied, before turning around and heading back into the yard, toward his house.

"You're not helping your case, Freddy," Scotty called out after him.

Freddy stopped before turning around to face Scotty. "What case? You're trying to charge me with statutory rape now? I'm pretty sure the statute of limitations is up."

"True," Scotty agreed. "But all this makes it seem more and more likely that you are the killer."

"Cops already thought that back in '97. Didn't get very far."

"You still have that van, Freddy?" Scotty asked smugly.

"I sold it five years ago," Freddy answered, just as confidently. "Now, if that's all...

"What can you tell us about Jenny?" Lilly asked, rather suddenly.

Jacob gave her a look. Meghan stared at Freddy and then back at Lilly and Scotty, seemingly even more confused.

"We know you mentioned her during your argument with Jacob," Lilly explained, sounding calm and determined. "It sounds like Jacob Stiller was somehow involved with her. Maybe you would like us to go bother her, and leave you alone?"

Freddy smirked, looking Lilly and Scotty up and down. He seemed to be enjoying that. Delaying the answer, even though he clearly knew it.

"Who was she?" Lilly persisted. "What was Jacob's connection to her?"

It took a few moments for Freddy to answer. He sounded kind of glad, almost relieved, when he did. "You're talking about Jenny Peterson. The substitute Spanish teacher who worked in school at the time." He stopped for a second, looking around. "Jacob was having an affair with her around the time he croaked," he revealed.

"And you know that how?" Scotty asked, frowning.

Freddy smiled, giving Meghan a loving look before walking over to her. "Funny how life works..." he reminisced, before reaching over and gently stroking Meghan's face. She flinched for a moment, but didn't pull away. "Meghan and I celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary just a month before that awful incident in the woods." Then he turned toward Lilly and Scotty again. "Well, a week prior, I made a reservation for us, at the nice little Italian restaurant. Not over the phone though. I went there in person, at around nine pm. I happened to be running some errands at the time, and was right on my way." He sighed, recollection flashing over his face. "And that's when I saw them."

 _(If It Makes You Happy by Sherly Crow)_

 _There weren't that many people in the restaurant; it was around halfway full. Most of the customers were couples, either young or middle-aged. The place smelled of pasta, wine, pork and perfume. Soft music was playing in the background, and the guests were talking and laughing. Freddy didn't pay much attention to them; at first. He checked his watch as he rushed over to the counter in the end of the room, coming face to face with the owner; a well-dressed, heavy-set dark-haired man, around a decade older than him._

 _"Hello," 'Freddy said, smiling as he approached the counter. "I would like to make a reservation for October 20th. For me and my wife."_

 _"Sure thing, mr. Keller," the owner replied, smiling back. "Let me check..." He was interrupted by his secretary, young dark-haired woman dressed in a white blouse and black skirt. She walked over to him quickly, a serious look on her face._

 _"Mr. Jones, there's a phone call for you," she informed him, in a soft whisper. "It's urgent."_

 _The owner sighed, then gave Freddy an apologetic look. "I'm sorry about this, mr. Keller. I'll be right back."_

 _"Sure thing," Freddy replied. "No problem."_

 _Freddy remained standing behind the counter, looking around. His eyes widened as he noticed the couple sitting in the very back of the restaurant. He frowned, taking a step closer, observing them carefully. There was no doubt; that was Jacob Stiller, the gym teacher and a football coach, having a dinner with a young woman. Young woman who was not his wife. Freddy eventually recognized her as Jenny Peterson, a substitute Spanish teacher. She was wearing low-cut red dress; Jacob was dressed in a blue shirt, black coat and black pants. Jacob was having ossobuco alla Milanesse, while was having spaghetti alla Carbonara. They were both sipping on a red wine. They did not seem to notice him though, because they were apparently in the middle of a heated discussion. Not exactly an argument, but close enough... Freddy could hear them quite well, once he paid attention._

 _"Jacob... I can not keep this up," Jenny admitted, looking down at the floor. Jacob sighed, sulking. "Not anymore. I don't want to."_

 _Jacob took a quick look around, though he failed to notice Freddy, who quickly made two steps back, cowering into a nearby corner. Jacob sighed before leaning over to Jenny, lowering his voice as he spoke up. "I can't just leave her like that," he maintained, making Jennifer groan. "We've been married for fifteen years. We have children. I would break her heart."_

 _"So, when are you planning to file for divorce?" Jenny retorted, hissing. "A year from now? Two? Three? The longer you keep putting things off, the worse it will turn out. For everyone involved."_

 _"I just need a few more weeks to plan everything out, take the money..." Jacob tried, only to be cut off by Jenny._

 _"You've been saying that for over a month now," Jenny pointed out, plea evident in her voice. "I'm getting tired of waiting, Jacob."_

 _"I understand," Jacob admitted, looking Jenny in the eyes, his voice soft and warm. "And I'm sorry about that. But I will go through with it, I promise. You just have to wait two or three more weeks. And then, we will be together. I swear. Just... keep this in mind, OK? Everything will be alright."_

 _"I sure hope so," Jenny commented, sighing, though she finally smiled in return. Jacob smiled back, looking relieved, at least partially._

 _"I know it is just a dream right now," he said, his voice warm, sympathetic, and hopeful. He took Jenny's hand in his. She shuddered, then blushed. "And I understand your frustration. But we will be living that dream, soon. I promise you, baby."_

 _Freddy grinned and shook his head. He saw the owner walk back over to the counter, so he approached him, doing his best to appear inconspicious. He still listened attentively, but he didn't hear Jacob and Jenny talk anymore._

"And you never mentioned that during the original investigation?" Lilly inquired.

Freddy shrugged. "I didn't think it was important. It's not like Jenny looked capable of committing a mass murder. But hey, if you figure that she is a person of interest... here you go."

"Thanks," Lilly remarked sarcastically, writing the info down.

"Besides, I didn't want Jacob's wife and kids to know," Freddy resumed, almost taunting them by that point. "I'm not a monster. But now, over a decade later... I figure they came to terms with their loss a long time ago."

"Of course," Lilly snapped back, looking up at Freddy. "And you also didn't want to risk detectives finding out that you had threatened Jacob, right? You tried to use his secret as a leverage over him shortly before he died. Because he knew that you had been sleeping with your students."

Freddy chuckled, his mouth widening into a grin. "You have a wild imagination. I like that in a woman," he revealed, giving Lilly a look-over. She shuddered. His gaze moved up to meet hers. "But you're also wrong. Dead wrong. And I like that about cops."

Lilly looked away, feeling nauseaus. Scotty glared at Freddy, silent for a few moments.

"Don't leave town, neither of you," he simply said, before he and Lilly turned around and walked away.

#

Nick and Will found Kevin Davis in his sporting goods store, while he was putting some new items up on the shelves. It was a small store. Still, it had pretty good security: six penal locks on all the doors, dead bolts on the windows, and security cameras everywhere. Kevin was still strong and fit, now wearing a black tank top, blue gym pants and white sneakers. He barely glanced at the detectives when they started approaching him.

"Kevin Davis?" Will called out, though he recognized Kevin right away. He hadn't changed much over the last (almost) thirteen years.

"One and only," Kevin mumbled, his enthusiasm non-existent.

"Detectives Vera and Jeffries," Nick introduced himself and his partner as they walked over to the survivor, flashing their badges.

Kevin gave them a brief and annoyed look, before focusing on his work again. "Look, if this is about my taxes, I will file them first thing tomorrow, I swear," he said in a dry, matter-of-fact manner.

"We're from Homicide," Will explained calmly. "We'd like to talk to you."

Kevin frowned, turning to face them. "About what?"

Nick sighed. "About the... attack that you survived. Back in '97."

Kevin flinched. His face twisted into a grimace, his eyes widening. "I don't want to talk about it," he said silently, before turning around and walking away, heading to his office in the other end of the store.

"We have reopened the case," Will explained, as he and Nick followed. "We are re-interviewing the survivors."

"I told everything I knew thirteen years ago," Kevin maintained, speeding up the pace. "If I remembered anything that could be important, I would have called it in. I haven't. Good riddance."

"This is important," Nick insisted. "I understand that you don't want to recall that night..."

"No, you don't," Kevin snapped as he finally turned toward the detectives, glaring at them. "I lost two good friends that night," he said under his breath, pain and sorrow evident in his voice. "They were like brothers to me. We did everything together. And now, all the memories are tainted, not just by their deaths, but... the nature of them. And I was there. I barely escaped, unscathed. Unless you experienced something like that, you don't understand," he concluded with a sigh, his face flushed and eyes watery, his fists clenched. "For the first time in my life, I felt absolutely helpless. And then I lost two of my best friends. Not that fun to remember. Especially considering that the person responsible was never caught. But now I have a job, wife and a son... I don't need nor want to relive that nightmare."

Nick and Will exchanged a look. It was obvious they weren't going to get much out of him. Not on the first visit, anyway. Still, they tried one last trick.

"Still, call us in case you remember anythimg," Nick advised Kevin, handing him his calling card. After a moment of consideration, Kevin took it. "And don't leave town. We need to keep all the witnesses close, you know."

"You're not the only one who survived the massacre," Will suddenly said, his eyes meeting Kevin's. He flinched, but didn't interrupt Will. "You could try to get in touch with the others. Meet up with them, talk. It might make things easier for you. And them. Just a suggestion."

Kevin just nodded his head, shoving the card down his pocket. Will and Nick took one last look at him before turning around and walking away.

#

Sarah Stiller sighed, taking a brief look at the family photographs on the walls as she clasped her hands together. She was sitting on her living room couch, opposite to Scotty and Lilly, who were sitting on her sofa, facing her.

"When I learned that Jacob was dead... that he had been murdered... it was like my whole world fell apart," she whispered, barely holding back tears, her voice hoarse. "In that one moment. And once I learned all the details... losing your loved one to a murder is bad enough, but to such a brutal, senseless one? With no leads, no justice, no closure?" she exclaimed, giving Scotty and Lilly a pleading look, almost like she was asking them to provide her with closure. But soon, she managed to form a small, warm smile. "But I had-have-my children. They inspired me to... try, fight, keep going. I'm not sure I ever truly moved on... but I survived."

"They seem nice," Lilly complimented her, smiling brightly as she observed the family photographs on the walls.

Sarah nodded her head, returning the smile. "They are the light of my life."

"I'm glad that you're re-opening the case, and I hope you find out who killed Jacob and all those other people, but I don't think I can tell you anything more than I did back in '97," she admitted, tremors evident in her voice. "Heck, up until this day, I've been doing my best not to think about that night."

Lilly pulled out her notepad, choosing her words carefully before she spoke up, her voice a bit lower than usual. "While we were investigating the case, a certain... detail, new lead about Jacob's... personal life has come up," she explained, looking Sarah in the eyes.

Sarah flinched for a moment, but didn't seem as surprised as Lilly expected her to be. "Really?" she exclaimed more than asked.

"Yes," Lilly confirmed. She remained silent for a few moments, before coming clean with the reveal. "I'm sorry that I have to ask you this, but are you aware that your husband was possibly having an affair with a woman named Jenny Peterson?"

Sarah looked down at the floor, and let out a heavy sigh. When she looked up, something between shame and bitter irony was written on her face, tears sparkling in her deep dark eyes. "It only took you thirteen years, huh?"

"So, you knew?" Scotty checked, observing her curiously.

Sarah scoffed, looking away. "I gotta admit it, Jacob was pretty good with keeping secrets. Sneaking behind my back. But not good enough."

 _(Hard To Say I'm Sorry by Az Yet)_

 _Jacob Stiller let out a tired sigh as he walked into the master's bedroom, silently closing the door behind. He stopped in his tracks upon seeing a figure-apparently his wife, Sarah-sitting up on the bed. When he would stay out late, Sarah was usually asleep by the time he returned home. Not this time, apparently. Jacob frowned and turned the light on. Sarah was indeed sitting on the bed, dressed in her white night gown, a disappointed, hurt look on her face. She was clutching something in her right hand, but he didn't really notice that at first._

 _"I thought you'd be sleeping by now..." he exclaimed. Before he could continue, Sarah stood up, walked over to him, and waved the item she was holding into his face. Little black lace panties. Jacob's face fell. He looked away._

 _"Care to explain this?" Sarah demanded, her voice a mixture of hurt and anger._

 _"Where did you find these?" Jacob asked silently, still looking away._

 _Sarah gave him a disgusted look. "You know where," she spat out. "In your sports' pants. The blue, baggy ones. And I know they aren't mine. They aren't my size either, so don't act like you bought them for me or something."_

 _Jacob groaned, running his hand through his hair. "I didn't think you'd wash them so soon..."_

 _Sarah scoffed, staring daggers at him. "Jesus, Jacob! That is your comment on this?"_

 _"Keep it down, please," Jacob whispered, finally looking her in the eyes. "The kids are asleep..."_

 _"Don't change the subject!" Sarah insisted, getting into his face, her cheeks flushed. "Don't twist this around!" She stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and put her hands on her hips. "Who is she, Jacob?"_

 _Jacob gulped, averting his gaze. "It doesn't matter."_

 _"It sure as hell does," Sarah maintained._

 _Sarah scoffed. In the next moment, she froze, realization written on her face. "It's that substitute teacher, isn't it?" she exclaimed, making Jacob sigh. "Jenny... Jenny Peterson, right? I saw you talk to her one day, when I dropped by the school to watch the football practice." She smiled bitterly, then observed the panties in her hand, raising her eyebrows. "Seems like her size, I'd say. Slim, slender young slut."_

 _"Don't talk about her like that!" Jacob snapped, grinding his teeth._

 _Sarah smirked, her eyes widening. "So, I'm right. She's your sugar-baby." She gave Jacob a look-over. "Congratulations, I guess. You were out with her tonight too?"_

 _"We had a late practice, and then I went out for a drink with a couple of my friends," Jacob answered, sighing._

 _Sarah scoffed. "Yeah, just like you have done many times over the last... what, three, four months?"_

 _"Fifteen years, Jacob," she started, barely holding back tears, her voice trembling. "We've been married for fifteen years, and then you cheat on me. You crap all over the decade and a half of our marriage by hooking up with some floozy! What were you thinking?!"_

 _Jacob sighed, looking down at the floor for a moment. "You... you wouldn't understand."_

 _Sarah gave him an incredulous look."How original." She took a deep breath, her lips twisting into a grimace. "Did I deserve this, Jacob?" she probed, staring at him; through him. "Seriously. What did I do wrong? What does she have, that I don't?"_

 _"Like you don't know," Jacob spat out, glaring at her._

 _Sarah remained silent for several moments, stunned. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"_

 _"Please," Jacob replied, clearly eager to tell his side of the story. "We barely slept together over the last two years. I can't remember the last time we went out someplace. You've been so caught up with your work... and I've been too, to an extent, I admit it. And then there are our two children..." "We simply drifted apart, I guess. She made... makes me feel wanted. Alive. Loved. And she understands me."_

 _Sarah gave him a deep, hurt look, barely holding back tears. Jacob just looked back at her, appearing strangely calm... almost relieved._

 _"Wow. Just.. wow," Sarah muttered, looking away as she choked back a cry._

 _"You wanted the truth," Jacob said silently._

 _"You could have told me something!" Sarah suggested angrily. "We could have worked things out!"_

 _"I told you many things, plenty of times," Jacob claimed, giving her a sympathetic but firm look. "You never listened. I guess you were content with the... current state of our marriage. At least that was the impression I got. Sorry, but I wasn't."_

 _Another silence. Much longer that time around. Nothing but heavy breathing and an occasional tired, disappointed sigh. Both spouses avoided facing each other._

 _"Look... no matter what I said... you're right, we've been married for fifteen years," Jacob finally said, sounding strangely calm, but also relatively sincere and well-intended. "We have two children together. Now that we both... realize how far this has gotten, we can make an effort to improve our marriage. To be... happy again. Don't you agree?"_

 _After that simple but probing question, Sarah finally looked up at him. Giving him a deep, icy, painful stare, her eyes filled with tears, her jaw clenched._

 _"Get out," she mumbled, her eyes burning through his._

 _Jacob scoffed, frowning. "You want me to leave my own house?"_

 _"No. Just the bedroom." She furrowed her brows, glaring at him. "I already know that the living room couch is just big enough for you," she hissed before throwing Jennifer's panties at him._

 _Jacob sighed, forcing himself to look up at Sarah again. "I meant what I said. Really."_

 _Sarah gave him a cold, distant look, her lips twisted into a snarl. "Leave," she whispered, every letter dripping with anger._

 _Jacob just looked back at her. "I do love you," he said silently. "And I'm truly sorry."_

 _Then he turned around and walked away, once again silently closing the door behind. Sarah looked after him, fuming with anger. When she was sure that Jacob was gone, she lied down on the bed, the one they had shared for fifteen years, and sobbed, covering her face with her hands._

"That was three days before that... school trip," Sarah concluded, wiping away tears. "We barely talked since. The fact we were both pretty busy around that time helped. And then... he was gone," she finished with a sigh, shivering.

"And you never mentioned that to the detectives working the case back in '97?" Lilly inquired, frowning.

Sarah shrugged, her lips twisting into a soar smile. "What would be the point of that? Smearing a dead man? And I didn't think some young substitute teacher would be capable of committing a massacre. I still don't."

"And Jacob promised to leave her?" Lilly asked, as gently as she could. "Stay with you, work on your marriage?"

Sarah shook her head. "Not really promised. More like hinted at it. But I could see it in his eyes that he was lying."

"Unless he didn't," Lilly suggested under her breath, looking up at Scotty. "And Jenny didn't take the news too well."

#

"So, how was your day?" Lilly asked, walking around her living room with a phone in hand. Her sister was on the other end, standing in the hallway close to her room, five other women staring right behind her, impatiently waiting their turn. It was little over eight pm, but the night had already settled over Philadelphia. Lilly frowned and looked through her living room window, observing the dark sky full of small, shiny stars, occasionally covered with thick grey clouds. She felt herself shiver, but she wasn't sure why.

"Really, Lilly?" Christina teased her, rolling her eyes. "You can't come up with a more original question? Not even once?"

"I might, if you could come up with some interesting answers," Lilly retorted.

"I've been under the impression that you don't exactly want me to get... adventurous in here," Christina commented.

Lilly sighed. "Christina..."

"It was fine," Christina started out, trying not to voice her annoyance. "I talked to the therapist. Same old, same old. "Doing drugs made me feel better, it would numb my pain, my fears, my insecurities." "I want to get better, to live a normal, healthy, productive life." Took a walk in the yard. Long one this time. Breathing that fresh air. Cold, foggy, autumn "fresh" air. They have several really nice pine trees growing there. We had spaghetti with little hot-dogs for lunch. It would have been OK, if they had not served us the same dish the third time in two weeks. My new roommate seems nice. Even though she is from New Jersey. God, her accent makes me cringe. She was a veterinarian before she got sent up."

"That's... good, I guess," Lilly remarked.

Christina frowned, tilting her head to the side. "By the way, I watched the news... in the cafeteria, few days ago," she mentioned, a curious look on her face. "And again, this morning. Did you know that they found a human head-well, skull-buried in that small park?"

Lilly frowned, shuddering. "Yeah... I've heard about that," she answered calmly, after a moment of consideration.

"And today, news breaks out that they IDd the head," Christina continued, sounding rather excited, interested. "I mean, determined who it belonged to, whatever. Some kid who was killed almost thirteen years ago, when that school bus got stranded on that isolated road, going through the woods. He had been impaled to a tree with a metal rod and decapitated. And four other guys got killed that same night. The coach, the bus driver and two other students. Full-blown massacre, two days before Halloween. Creepy, right?"

"It sure is," Lilly agreed, grimacing.

Christina sighed, calm again, and glanced at the clock on the near by wall, sulking. "Well, it's close to my bedtime, and I'm pretty sure the girl behind me is burning the holes through the back of my head by now. Gotta go. Good night."

"Good night," Lilly replied, smiling slightly. "Sweet dreams."

"Same," Christina agreed, grinning. "Keep your _head_ up, sis!"

Lilly rolled her eyes at the obvious pun, and hanged up.

Just when Lilly was about to put the phone down, it rang again. She sighed and answered the call immediately, thinking that it was probably Christina again.

"Hello?"

But there was no answer. There was a sound-something like a combination of heavy breathing and muffled groaning. It almost sounded mechanical, scrambled; only not quite. But no words came out from the other end of the line. Lilly frowned, feeling herself shiver.

"Hello?"

That strange noise again. A little louder this time. But nothing more.

"Who is this?" Lilly asked, doing her best to sound confident... and hide tremors in her voice.

No answer. And, a second later, the call ended.

Lilly sighed, feeling something between relief and fear wash over her. After a short moment of hesitation, she looked at the caller ID. The number was displayed on the screen, but without a name. And it definitely wasn't the number of the rehab facility that Christina was staying in.

#

Early the next morning, all the detectives found themselves in the workroom, going through the case files, and running the witness' and suspects' names through various databases, trying to uncover any lead that could point them in the right direction. Scotty groaned, shifting in his seat. Lilly sighed and rubbed her forehead, reading the autopsy report on Carrie Willson again. John was standing near her desk, reading his copy of the case file as he paced around. Will was in the opposite end of a room, making a phone call, a tired look on his face.

"Jenny Peterson definitely worked as a substitute Spanish teacher in 1997," Scotty read, a tired look on his face. "The problem is that there are no records of her since 1998. Nothing in missing persons' and obituaries either. So I'm guessing that she changed her name. And social security number."

"For all we know, she doesn't even live in Pennsylvania anymore, let alone Philadelphia," Lilly realized.

"For all we know, she doesn't even live in the US anymore," Vera pointed out, making Lilly groan.

"And her name didn't come up in the original investigation?" Kat wondered.

"It is mentioned in the reports," Lilly noted, going through the case file. "Briefly. She was interrogated, together with dozens of other employees at the school. But she didn't provide much information, and there was no evidence she had been having an affair with Jacob. She definitely didn't mention it. She couldn't provide an alibi though."

"Nothing in phone records, credit card receipts...?" Kat wondered.

"Nothing," Lilly confirmed, sighing. "I guess they would mostly meet up-and arrange further meetings-at school, and pay cash when they would go out for dinner and stuff."

"They could have also used burner phones to communicate," Scotty suggested. "The one found under the school bus might have belonged to Jacob."

"Wendy Teller is a mystery too," John chimed in, pacing around. "I already made a few phone calls, no luck. Can't say I blame her though. First her affair with her High school English teacher is exposed, then her friends are murdered and she barely escapes the madman's wrath... I'd like to disappear too."

"Well, we still need to talk to her," Lilly maintained, now reading the police report about the incident, her face pale.

"I'm sure we'll track her down... eventually," John said assuredly. He looked around, lowering his voice a bit when he spoke up, his eyes meeting Lilly's. "Also, I made a few more phone calls and found out that, from October 26th to October 30th, George Marks was attending a forensics' seminar in Portland, Oregon. There are credit card records, photographs and sign sheets proving it. Most of the classes were held in late afternoon and early evening hours: around the time when the... Halloween massacre occurred. So... we can put that theory to rest."

Lilly shuddered, but gave him a grateful look, finally feeling a bit calmer; though the last night's strange (and anonymous) phone call was still on her mind. "Thank you," she said silently, before returning her attention to the case file. "At least we managed to rule out one suspect."

"What about Brenda Sanders?" Scotty asked, briefly looking up from his computer.

"We've got two forensic accountants looking into her company," John informed him, without looking up from the file. "Nothing suspicious so far."

"I'm not having any luck locating Ahiga Nez either," Jeffries revealed, hanging up the phone. "No listed address since his release from prison, no tax records... and his only surviving family is a distant cousin living in Brooklyn. I'm going to talk to him and Ahiga's former cellmates, see if they know where he lives now."

"Ballistics are still trying to determined the bullet's trajectory," Kat added. "They think a 3D reconstruction might help. They also suspect the wind affected the bullet's trajectory."

"Forensics are still processing skin cells found on the burner," Nick added. "It's looking good. They should have the results back soon. They're also working on dirt and grass samples. The ones recovered on Freddy Keller's van tires."

"He is the only suspect who owned a vehicle big enough to transport a large number of victims," Lilly pointed out. "Brenda drove a black Impala. And there are no records of Sam Winthrop or Ahiga Nez ever owning a car."

"You know, maybe Jacob Stiller was the one who sent those photographs and copies of the receipts to the school board," Kat suggested. "He wanted to turn Freddy Keller in, put an end to his crimes. But he couldn't have done so anonymously, or Freddy would have exposed his affair. So he followed Freddy around for some time, gathered the evidence, and turned it over to the school board. Anonymously."

"Maybe, but he must have figured that Freddy would have immediately suspected him anyway," Lilly pointed out.

"But it also sounds like Jacob was planning to take off with Jenny anyway," Scotty added. "Maybe he wasn't worried about the affair being exposed anymore, but also gathered the evidence to make sure Freddy would go down, then turned it over anonymously... as an extra precaution? To mess with him?"

"Or somebody else made the case against Freddy and exposed him," Lilly theorized, frowning. "But who? And why?"

"Hmmm..." Scotty exclaimed, reading something off his computer monitor with great interest. Others looked up at him, waiting for an explanation. It didn't take long for him to notice, and answer.

"I ran all the survivors' and witnesses' names through our database, just in case," Scotty explained, a curious look on his face. "Nothing really stands out, but I discovered an interesting detail about Trish Jenkins. Five months after the murders, her parents sued the school for not providing their daughter with safe enough conditions."

"Plenty of parents did that, from what I've read," Lilly countered. "Especially parents of murdered children. Plenty of survivors' parents too, though."

"Yes, but Trish's parents aimed for more than the rest," Scotty pointed out. "Much more. Twenty million. Most of the other suits and settlements ranged between one and five million, at most."

"The case wasn't going well though," Scotty continued. "And, eventually, both the judge and the school board started receiving anonymous death threats. Police suspected Jenkins', but there was no evidence. All the calls were traced back to different phone boots, located all over Philadelphia. Eventually, they settled for eight million."

"So, you think Trish's parents are behind it?" Lilly wondered.

"Not directly," Scotty said, shaking his head. "They had an alibi."

"And Trish was on the bus with the others when the first two victims were murdered," Kat pointed out.

"Yeah, but there is one interesting detail about those threats," Scotty continued, turning to face Kat. "Some of the people who had received threats claimed they had heard deep, muffled, male voice on the phone. Others claimed the voice they heard kind of sounded like a young woman's voice. Some even said that it sounded similar to Trish's, but they couldn't tell for sure because it was scrambled," he concluded.

Scotty and Lilly exchanged a look. "Time to pick her up," Lilly decided, standing up. Scotty followed suit.

#

Trish glared at Lilly and then at Scotty, her eyes filled with tears, her face pale. They just looked back at her, waiting for her to respond to their inquiry.

"This is why you dragged me down to the precinct?" Trish complained, clearly offended. "A lawsuit from over twelve years ago?"

"Seems like a strong motive," Lilly stated, walking around.

"For what?" Trish cried, glaring at her. "Committing a massacre? You people are sick!" She gulped and then took a deep breath, trying to relax. "I was on the bus the entire time," she pointed out, clasping her hands.

"That only means that you couldn't have been directly responsible," Scotty retorted, though he didn't sound too harsh.

"At least for the first two murders," Lilly proceeded, stopping a foot away from Trish. "Nobody saw you once the students split up. You ran off into the woods on your own."

Trish gasped, feeling herself shudder. "This is crazy," she argued, choking back tears. She looked up at Lilly and then Scotty, giving them a pleading look. "Look, back then, my father owned a furniture factory. The business... was not going well. My mother was undergoing chemotherapy for breast cancer. That is one of the reasons why Carrie and I were so close. And then, I barely survived a massacre. Of course my parents pushed for a big settlement! Wouldn't you?"

"And, when the things weren't going your way, the judge and the school board started receiving anonymous death threats," Lilly pointed out, making Trish groan. "Some of the victims said the caller kind of sounded like you."

"Well, those people were-are-gravely mistaken," Trish claimed, tears rolling down her face.

"Of course," Lilly replied, with more sarcasm than she intended.

"I had nothing to do with those threats, let alone the murders," Trish maintained, her lower lip quivering. "And neither did my parents."

"Would they agree to a police interview?" Scotty asked.

Trish gave him a pained look. "My mother died of cancer in 2005. It came back to beat her. My father died of a heart attack a year ago. But I'd bet you knew that already. You're just trying to throw me off balance."

She swallowed a lump in her throat and took a deep breath, looking away. Neither Lilly nor Scotty said anything.

"You can not begin to imagine what that... incident did to my state of mind," Trish started, trying to compose herself. "October 29th 1997 was the most terrifying night of my life. Words fail to describe it. Minutes felt like hours, hours felt like days, and that... monster could have been anywhere in the woods, heading my way, ready to rip me apart. It was like a real-life horror movie. And I'm starting to think that it never really ended. I've got two locks on all of my doors and windows, high-end home security system, own two guns, and I still lie down in bed every night, thinking, fearing... believing that the monster will come back to get me."

Trish cried, running her hand down her face, sighing as she leaned back in her seat.

"And when I found out that Carrie was killed..." she exclaimed, shivering. "God, she had an open casket funeral, and they cleaned her up and stitched her together and dressed her in that white gown, but I couldn't bear to look at her, because I had heard what he... it... had done to her... and her mother, her poor mother kept crying, sobbing, and then her MS kept kicking in so she was convulsing and had trouble breathing..." She took a deep breath, her eyes watery and bloodshot, her whole body trembling."And I... I tried to keep it together, but I kept thinking back on that night. In the woods."

 _(Sweet Dreams by Marilyn Manson)_

 _Trish was running through the woods, her heart pounding in her chest, her eyes wide and strained, her skin covered with cold sweat, the dirty clothing clinging to her slim form. She didn't even know where she was going; there was no clear pathway or stretch of the road anywhere in sight. She just felt that she needed to get away as far as possible... from the school bus. Because that was where the monster was. That was where two people had been... murdered, slained by that... being. That tall, buffy figure in a dirty coat, with a deformed, greenish face, red, shining eyes, and... what looked like claws on his hands... dripping blood._

 _Who... what was that thing? It didn't look human. Coach Stiller and the driver were dead! Other students ran off into the woods, who knew where they were... and Carrie... God, Carrie... what if the monster got to her? He-it-took out two grown men, what would it do to poor Carrie? Where was she?_

 _Suddenly, Trish heard some commotion near by. She gasped, her heart skipping a beat, before stopping in her tracks and covering her mouth with her hand. She looked around, choking back scream, looking around as her heart was thundering against her chest, shivers running up and down her body. Was the monster in the woods? Looking for her? Approaching her? She didn't see anyone near by, but then again, there were lots of tall, wide trees and thick bushes around. Trish listened attentively, her eyes roaming over the dark, deep woods. But she didn't hear any commotion again. Silence. Dead silence._

 _And then, there was another noise, even louder than the previous one. Trish barely suppressed a scream. She though she saw a shadow pass near the tall pine tree about seven feet away, but she couldn't tell for sure. She gulped, feeling her legs grow weak, and started retreating behind a big oak tree near by. Her mind was in full panic mod, but she had enough presence of mind to pick up a big, heavy rock off the ground, gripping it tightly._

 _But, just when she made her way to the back of the tree, Trish slipped and fell. She gasped, landing on her back, pain shooting through her body. The rock fell out of her hand and landed on the ground near by. Through the haze, Trish thought she heard several heavy footsteps approaching._

 _In the next moment, she was blinded by a bright, probing light. Her eyesight turned blurry, but she could see several tall, dark figures walk over to her. She let out a bloodcurdling scream, instantly reaching for the rock. She managed to pick it up again..._

 _"Philadelphia PD! Drop the weapon!"_

 _Trish blinked, her eyesight clearing. She saw three police officers standing in front of her, keeping her at gunpoint, flashlights taped to their weapons directed at her face. She sobbed, feeling like the weight of the world had been lifted off her chest, at least temporarily. She dropped the rock and fell down on the ground again, crying uncontrollably._

 _One of the officers holstered his weapon, then rushed over to help her get up. Trish groaned at the sudden contact, jumping aside, but soon relaxed and held on to the officer tightly as he helped her to her feet._

 _"Everything is alright," the officer whispered, holding her tight. "You are safe now. We will take you home."_

 _"The monster... the monster is out there... it killed coach Stiller and the driver," Trish rambled, her whole body shaking._

 _"We are canvassing the area," one of the other officers said. "We will find him."_

 _"Have... have you found Carrie?" Trish asked, slowly sorting out her thoughts, despite the shock._

 _"Carrie?" the cop questioned, leading her away._

 _"Carrie Willson, my friend, the cheerleader," Trish explained frantically. "She's around 5'7, has long brown hair, green eyes, mole on her right cheek... you gotta find her. Is she OK?" she asked, looking up at the police officer._

 _A look of realization flashed over the cop's face, briefly. He flinched, his eyes widening, little color that was left on his face suddenly gone. Trish noticed his reaction. Her stomach dropped. She tried to look the cop in the eyes, but he looked away._

 _"Have you found her?" she asked, the last remains of hope cracking in her deep, soar voice. "Is she OK?"_

 _The cop remained silent, swallowing a lump in his throat. The other officers also didn't answer. Trish cried out, horrific realization fully formed in her panicked, tortured mind._

 _"Let's get out of here, Trish..." the cop said, embracing her gently. "We gotta get you checked out."_

 _"Oh my God..." Trish sobbed, her body writhing in shock and despair as the cops led her out of the woods and into her nightmare. "Oh my God!"_

Trish looked down at the floor, tears rolling down her pale face, her hands clasped tightly together. Lilly and Scotty didn't know what to say. It took them some time to process her testimony. To handle its weight, and impact.

"You were truly close," Lilly whispered, rather absent-mindedly.

"I told you!" "Carrie didn't deserve that. She had already suffered through so much. I did my best to help her, but either way, in the end, I couldn't save her."

 _(I Love You Always Forever by Donna Lewis)_

 _Trish and Carrie were sitting at the writing desk in Carrie's room, working on a Math equation. Well, Carrie was doing most of the work, but that was the point. Trish sucked at Math, and Carrie wanted-and could-help her. The desk lamp casted a dim light on the wrinkled papers laying atop of the desk. It was already dark outside, even though it was only 6:30 pm. The whole house was quiet, except for two best friends doing a Math homework together._

 _"And you've got the result..." She smiled, and checked the last page of the textbook for a solution. "Which is correct!" she declared, smiling._

 _"This is actually pretty easy," Trish exclaimed, giggling. "Now that you explained it, I mean," she added, flashing Carrie a bright, grateful smile._

 _Carrie smiled back, feeling herself blush. "Yeah, it isn't that difficult, but there is a lot of it, so many specific rules, and the teachers rarely find the time to explain it all in school..."_

 _"The perks of having a smart and generous friend," Trish complimented her, her voice soft and sweet._

 _"Thanks," Carrie replied. Then she sighed, looking away. "Sorry about... dragging you here," she said silently, making Trish shiver. "I wish I could have come to your place, but I couldn't... you know..."_

 _"No, it's OK, really," Trish assured her. "Don't worry about it."_

 _Carrie nodded her head, smiling slightly. She swallowed a lump in her throat before looking up at her best friend. "Is... is your mom doing well?" she asked carefully, her eyes meeting Trish's._

 _Trish flinched for a moment, but remained calm. "Yeah... she's responding quite well to the treatment, eating healthy, she is pretty optimistic now. Definitely better than how she was the last month. I just hope she keeps it up."_

 _Carrie smiled, nodding her head. "I'm glad."_

 _Trish smiled back, nodding as well. "Me too."_

 _Suddenly, a sound of something breaking, cracking, was heard from the kitchen, followed by something that sounded like a muffled groan. Both Carrie and Trish looked in that direction, startled, their eyes wide. When Carrie turned toward Trish, the look on her face, and in her eyes, was something between worry and genuine fear. "Excuse me for a moment..." she said softly, her voice almost cracking in the middle of the sentence._

 _"Sure thing," Trish replied quickly, giving Carrie a warm, comforting look. Carrie stood up and practically ran out of the room._

 _Trish wanted to go with her, help her out, but she wasn't sure what just happened and didn't want to embarrass Carrie. Still, she wanted to know what just happened. She stood up, walked over to the room door, and peeked into the kitchen._

 _Carrie's mother was sitting at the kitchen table, her hands shaking, her face twisted into a grimace. White ceramic mug lied on the floor near by, broken, bright green tea pooling between the shards._

 _"Are you OK, mom?" Carrie asked softly, observing her mother's hands._

 _"I... I just wanted to get a coup of tea..." her mother whispered, staring at the mess on the floor._

 _"Thank God you didn't cut yourself," Carrie commented, taking a kitchen cloth off the table. "Calm down. I'm going to clean this up, and pour you a new one."_

 _"Why is this happening to me, Carrie?" she cried out, covering her face with her weak, trembling hands._

 _Carrie looked at her, blinking back tears. She put the cloth down, walked over to her mother and hugged her._

 _"Mom... everything is going to be OK," Carrie mused. "You mustn't give up." Her mother cried harder, burying her face in Carrie's shoulder._

 _"Relax... breathe..." Carrie mused, holding her close._

 _"I'm so sorry, Carrie..." her mother whispered, trying to stop crying._

 _"There is nothing to be sorry about, mom," Carrie assured her as she helped her sit back down. She quickly took another mug off the counter, picked up the pot off the table, poured her mother another cup of tea and put it on the table, in front of her. She reached into the kitchen drawer, pulled out a straw and put it in the tea. "Here you go."_

 _Carrie and her mother exchanged a small smile. Carrie tapped her on the shoulder before heading back into her room. Trish quickly stepped away from the door and sat back down at the writing desk._

 _"I'm sorry about that..." Carrie said silently, avoiding eye contact as she sat down._

 _"There is nothing to be sorry about, Carrie," Trish assured her, giving her a compassionate look._

 _Carrie sighed, running her hands down her face. "She keeps getting worse and worse, Trish. It... it hurts to watch." She shivered, quickly wiping away tears. "I have no idea how will I go on... how will she go on... how long will she..."_

 _"Carrie... don't think like that," Trish said, though she had to try her best to sound convincing._

 _"How can I not?" Carrie retorted, tears shining in her eyes. "I see it every day." She sighed and looked aside, wiping away tears. "It was all fine just six months ago," she exclaimed, letting out a bitter chuckle. "Then she started having those tremors in her right arm and..."_

 _"Everything will be alright, Carrie," Trish assured her, pulling her arm over Carrie's shoulders and embracing her. Carrie choked back a sob, leaning against her. "Things will work out. You gotta have hope. Nothing is lost yet."_

 _"Her insurance doesn't cover it," Carrie explained, a bit calmer now, but still shaken up. "The basics, yes, but that is not enough for her to... go on. Live a normal life. You've seen her. We can't save up enough money, not soon enough anyway. We gotta pay for school, groceries, the bills, and then there are the mortgages..." She shuddered, letting out a bitter chuckle. "I've been thinking of finding a job, at least part-time, but I can't leave her alone. Not anymore."_

 _Carrie sighed and pulled out a key from her pocket._

 _"There is that small cabin... it belonged to my grandparents, now it belongs to my mom," Carrie mused, fiddling with the key in her hands. "We would go there sometimes, when we were on a field trip or out hiking... not so much anymore. We haven't been there in years. I've been thinking about selling it... well, my mother would have to be the one to actually sell it, but you get the idea. But I shudder to think how much-better say, how little-we can get for it. Three thousand... maybe... if we are lucky?"_

 _A short silence ensued. Neither girl said a word. They had nothing to add. They both stared at the key in Carrie's hands. Carrie was the one to break the silence, though she didn't offer neither a solution nor an advice._

 _"I should probably stop by first, clean the place up... my mom is in no shape to do it, anyway. It is so far away, though... I've been carrying this key around for days."_

 _Trish just nodded her head. Carrie sighed, shifting in her seat._

 _"I'm sorry," she muttered, looking up at Trish. "I didn't mean to bother you with my craptastic life."_

 _Trish gave her a compassionate, albeit sad look. "Carrie... you're not bothering me. Don't apologize." She bit her lower lip, shifting in her seat. "You know, I can ask my parents, maybe they can borrow you some money..."_

 _Carrie flinched, then shook her head. "No... no, Trish, that would be too much. I can't take that from you."_

 _"You can," Trish insisted, looking her in the eyes. "And you should. I will ask them first thing next morning, I promise."_

 _"Your folks are going through the hard times already... it wouldn't be fair," Carrie pointed out, her face flushed._

 _"You-you and your mother-need it even more," Trish insisted. "I will try to work something out, I promise. Don't worry about it, Carrie. Things will come around."_

 _"I sure hope so," Carrie whispered. Trish smiled at her, keeping eyes on her until Carrie smiled too. Trish rewarded her with a soft kiss on the forehead._

"So, Carrie's family owned a cabin in the woods?" Lilly asked, frowning.

"Yeah," Trish whispered. "Kind of eerie. Just seven miles away or so from the... murder scene."

"There were no records of them owning a property near the massacre site," Scotty pointed out.

Trish shrugged, a bit calmer now. "Like I said, it belonged to her grandparents. When they died, Carrie's mother must have inherited it. I guess she never bothered to do the paperwork, list herself as the official owner. I doubt they used it much, if at all, anyway."

"But Carrie knew about it?" Lilly questioned, raising her eyebrows. "And had an access to the key?"

"From what I saw, sure," Trish confirmed, nodding her head. "Why?"

"Just checking," Lilly said, writing it down.

"You never mentioned that during the original investigation," Scotty pointed out. "Nor during our conversation yesterday."

"I didn't think it was important," Trish explained. "It just occurred to me now. I've been doing my best not to think about that night. Or even the days that preceeded it. Thank you for squashing my efforts." "And since you've clearly got nothing on me, I'd like to leave now."

#

Scotty and Lilly exchanged a look as they left the interrogation room and entered the workroom together. They saw Trish walking away, but they avoided to look at her.

"I'm not liking Trish for this," Scotty admitted, letting out a heavy sigh.

"Me neither," Lilly agreed. "But the info about the cabin is interesting. Maybe the key found in the sports' bag recovered in the woods was the key to that cabin."

"You think the perpetrator gained access to it somehow?" Scotty questioned. "Planned to take the victims there after abducting them?"

Lilly frowned, tilting her head to the side. "Maybe, but that would mean that he, or she, must have known Carrie."

Scotty smirked, putting his hands on his hips. "Trish said the cabin was located around seven miles away from the precinct," he recounted curiously. "Original investigators searched the area in a five mile radius of the crime scene. Looked into every cottage, shed and cave located there. Didn't find anything useful. If only had they searched little wider... Funny how life works."

"I doubt they would have found much, anyway," Lilly retorted. "Even if the perpetrator really planned to take the victims there. Though I also doubt that cabin is still standing there, almost thirteen years later."

Their conversation was interrupted by Nick Vera, who approached them quickly, a proud look on his face and a case file in his hand.

"DNA results just came in," he exclaimed, an excited look on his face. "Forensics managed to extract complete DNA profile from skin cells recovered on the burner phone found under the school bus. Female DNA profile. They ran it against the elimination samples taken from the victims first; and found a match. It belongs to Carrie Willson."

Both Lilly and Scotty stared at him, eyes wide. "Are they sure?" Lilly asked, her jaw growing slack.

"They ran it twice," Nick confirmed proudly. "It's hers."

Lilly nodded her head, a shiver running up her back as the realization formed in her mind. "Carrie Willson was not just a victim," she concluded. "She was the killer's accomplice."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I don't own any of the "Cold Case" characters and I am not making any money from writing this.**

 **Please forgive any minor spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language.**

 **I sincerely apologize for the delay. Life got in the way, I got the writer's block... all the usual stuff. I can't believe it's been over a year since I published this story. But I'm back now. I guess it is appropriate to publish the new chapter on Halloween.** I **hope you'll like this.**

Following that bombshell, everyone was seated at their desks, trying to process that unexpected information while going through the case files again, hoping to find some other clue that might clear up that whole mess. Lilly was the only one standing up, facing the evidence board as she paced around, studying its content with great interest, like she expected to find another lead there.

"Carrie must have had that burner phone with her in order to update the perpetrator-who was also using a burner phone-about the bus' location," Lilly concluded, pacing around as she studied the materials on the board. "The last call was made five minutes before the bus got stranded."

"But the killer must have been lying in wait there already," Kat pointed out. "So he must have known about the route beforehand."

"Carrie knew about the trip, she must have told him," Scotty explained, leaning back in his seat. "She was simply keeping him updated so he would know everything was going according to the plan. She was also supposed to inform him in case there were some unexpected changes along the way."

"She also provided him with the key to that old cabin that her mother owned," Nick continued. "Or maybe the killer found out about the cabin and stole the key from Carrie. But knowing what we know now, the first theory is more likely."

"According to the city records, the cabin was torn down in 2003," Will read. "So that part is impossible to confirm. But I agree."

"It also confirms our theory about the murders being a result of the mass abduction gone wrong," John concluded, sighing. "The... "monster" was supposed to strand the bus on that isolated part of the road, abduct the teenagers and take them to the cabin, then demand a ransom. He used Carrie to ensure that everything would go smoothly, and she also gave him an access to an isolated location suitable for keeping a large number of people captive."

"The killer could have also used Carrie as an inside man-well, a teenage girl. Somebody that would set the investigation off the track while posing as an innocent victim," Scotty suspected. "She could have fed the investigators some fake info about the abductor."

"Not to mention her help with subduing the hostages," Lilly added. "The perp could have put a knife to her throat, to make everything look legit, and then "force" her to tie everyone else up and gag them, before doing the same to her. And since she was in on it, she would do the job right for sure, and definitely wouldn't fight back."

"But none of the survivors mentioned Carrie talking on the phone, or even having the burner phone with her," Nick mentioned, confused.

"Yes, but she was sitting in the back row, and none of the calls lasted long," Scotty reminded him. "And by all accounts, it was pretty... rowdy in the bus before the attack."

"Plus, such traumas are sure to do a number on anyone's mind," Lilly mentioned, still focused on the board. "Especially teenagers. For many of them, it took a while to remember even the most basic details."

"But why would Carrie agree to take part in such a horrible crime?" Kat wondered.

"Carrie's mother suffered from multiple sclerosis, her condition was declining rapidly, the treatment was expensive, and they were having serious financial problems at the time," Lilly listed, a sad look on her face. She sighed before turning toward her colleagues. "Carrie was desperate, and that monster took advantage of her. He must have promised her a big cut."

"But things went wrong," Will reasoned, nodding his head. "Jacob Stiller went outside and approached the... perpetrator. Confronted him. Maybe even noticed something about him, recognized him, and made that obvious. The guy panics, pulls out the knife, rips... slits Jacob's throat. The kids see what just happened, panic, get off the bus, and run-escape-into the near by woods. Carrie too. Murder wasn't part of the plan. She must have been terrified. Even more so than the others."

"Carrie drops the burner phone along the way," Nick continued, playing out the scene in his mind. "The bus driver attacks the murderer and gets killed too. The killer then makes his or her way into the woods, finds Carrie, and kills her in order to cover his or her tracks."

"Jim Haase died by accident, while running away," Kat contemplated. "Not sure about. Maybe just a red herring? Or maybe he ran into the killer in the woods?"

"By all accounts, Carrie was a good, sweet, well-intended girl," Lilly pointed out. "The killer must have done a number on her mind. That's gotta be someone close to her... as messed up as that sounds."

"Well, Carrie was in a very difficult situation, and teenagers are impressionable... but I agree," Scotty said, closing his copy of the case file with a tired sigh.

"Carrie didn't have many friends, except Trish and a few others," Kat pondered, deep in thought. "The phone records and the talk with her mother didn't reveal anything new on that front. So, we're back to one of the students..."

"... or Freddy Keller," John chimed in. "Assuming that what Brenda Sanders told us she witnessed is correct."

"We talked to Freddy and his wife," Scotty reminded him, perking up. "The creep didn't admit to anything, but believe us, those claims about him and Carrie are true."

"That blatant, huh?" John commented. Scotty smirked and nodded his head. Lilly gave him a slight smile.

"Detective Lily Rush?"

They all turned in the direction of the sound, startled, and were surprised to see a young courier standing in the doorway, with a package and sign sheet in his hands.

"Yes?" Lilly inquired, confused.

"This just came in. Addressed to you."

Lilly frowned, but didn't hesitate. She walked over to the delivery man/curior, took a quick glance at the package, signed the release form, and thanked the curior/young man as he gave her the package/item. The man walked away, and Lilly rushed to open the package.

What she found inside chilled her to the core. She couldn't even believe her eyes at first, but it was there. She felt her heart pound in her chest, a shiver running down her back as a lump formed in her throat. She wanted to react, to say something, but she couldn't make a sound; and she didn't know what to say anyway. John and Scotty rushed over to her, noticing her shock. They looked down at the item in her hands, and immediately went pale.

"Glass deer eyes," John whispered, his throat dry.

Lilly finally found her voice, just at the moment when she came to accept the terrifying but undeniable conclusion. "Exactly the same kind like the ones George Marks used," she concluded before throwing the box away in disgust and looking away, letting out a silent gasp.

#

Lilly was sitting at her desk, pale as a ghost. John was standing near by, trying to find the right words, and the right moment to say them. That wasn't working out well for him. Scotty had left the workroom briefly, apparently in order to pursue a lead.

"Forensics are processing the package for fingerprints and DNA right now," John said softly, looking Lilly in the eyes. "The... eyes too."

Lilly nodded her head, her face pale, eyes watery. "I don't think this is just some sick prank," she said in a hoarse voice, staring at the wall. "The killer knows we're getting close, and he or she is trying to set me-us-off balance. But how did he know about... all that?"

"You can find pretty much anything online these days," Nick explained, matter of factly. "George Marks' case was huge news when it was all revealed. Don't forget, he sent you the package to the precinct, not to your home address."

Lilly gulped, shifting in her seat. "Well, there is one more thing..."

John frowned, suddenly even more worried. "What?"

Lilly remained silent for a moment before answering, under her breath. "I received a... strange phone call last night."

"Define strange," John persisted, raising his voice up a little.

"There was no sound on the other end," Lilly recounted, tremors evident in her voice. "Just something like... heavy breathing. But even that was muffled. I called out several times, no answer. And that was it."

"The caller hanged up?" Kat inquired, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes," Lilly confirmed, nodding her head.

"We gotta pull your phone records..." Scotty started, only to get cut off by Lilly.

"I've got a caller ID. I already ran the number, just in case. Traced it back to the phone booth."

"How would the perpetrator-or whoever that was-even know your number?" Nick wondered. "You're unlisted, aren't you?"

Lilly nodded her head. She had no answer.

"And you didn't think that was worth mentioning?" John inquired, a little softer that time.

Lilly shook her head. "I though that might have just been a prank, or a wrong number. But now..."

John sighed and nodded his head. Several tense, silent moments passed. "Well, I'm still going to have the patrol canvass the area around that phone booth, look for possible witnesses and surveillance tapes," he decided. "I'll have the forensics process the place too. And I'm putting a police patrol in front of your house tonight. And in front of the rehab facility Christina is in too." Lilly opened her mouth, seemingly to object, but John interrupted her. "No ifs and buts."

As soon as he finished the sentence, Scotty walked back into the room, clutching a new report in his hands. He gave Lilly a compassionate looks before turning to face the others. "I may have a lead on Jenny Petterson."

All the faces in the room instantly turned toward him. "Really?" Nick exclaimed, putting his file down.

Scotty nodded his head, taking a deep breath. "I've been looking into her family, hoping that would help me locate her," he explained, walking over to Lilly and John. "But there's not much there. Her parents died in a car accident soon after she graduated, and her only sibling was an older sister, Emily Petterson, who died of cancer in 1995. But then I dug a little deeper, because I had no other leads, and found something interesting. According to the death certificate, Emily Petterson died of cancer in September 1995. But, according to her social security number, she has been working as a Spanish teacher since January 1998, in James Madison High School, under the name Heather Peterson. Another interesting detail: Heather was Emily Peterson's middle name. And her social security number was not used between her death in September 1995 up until January 1998."

Lilly frowned, realization forming in her mind. "So, following the murders, Jenny Peterson moved to Brooklyn and lied low for a few months, probably lived from her savings in cheap motels and rented apartments, and then she stole her death sister's identity in order to resume her teaching career as a new woman, unrelated to the murder investigation?" she concluded more than asked, her eyes meeting Scotty's.

"It would appear so," Scotty agreed, before taking a look around. "I have her last known address, and a workplace address. Anyone up for a road trip?" he asked, cautiously, hoping Lilly wouldn't ask him to come along.

After only a few seconds, Kat stood up, grabbing her purse. "I'll go with you."

#

Jenny Peterson let out a sigh, looking away from Scotty and Kat, who were sitting on her sofa, opposite to her. She didn't confess to their accusations, but she didn't deny them either. Even all those years later, she looked pretty much the same way she did on her 1997 employee photo, though her hair was now cut short, with a cute pixie haircut, and she had several lines on her face. Scotty looked up from the police report in his hands and eyed her curiously.

"Jenny, Jenny, Jenny... or do you prefer Heather after all these years?" Scotty mused, giving her a knowing look. Jennifer rolled her eyes and looked away, but didn't object. "And don't even try denying it," Scotty continued, just as cold. "Not only is the resemblance obvious, even almost thirteen years later, but both schools fingerprinted you when you applied for the job. It would be easy enough to make a comparison, and we both know what it would reveal."

Jenny cringed, clenching her fists. She looked through the living room window, at her yard. "I guess I knew this was going to happen eventually," she whispered, sounding defeated.

"You do know that identity theft is a crime, right?" Kat questioned, glaring at her.

"Isn't the statue of limitations up already?" Jenny tried, sounding annoyed.

"That's not how it works," Scotty explained. "You might have stolen it back in 1998, but you've been using it ever since. If anything, that only makes it worse."

Jenny gave him a pleading look. "I only stole the name," she tried.

"And the social security number," Scotty reminded her.

"Everything else has been my own money and my own effort," Jenny maintained, her eyes meeting his.

Kat observed her carefully. "Stealing your dead sister's identity? That's pretty low."

Jenny shot her a look, but she kept her cool. "I'm sure she would understand," she whispered, tears sparkling in her eyes.

"Why did you do that?" Kat asked, tilting her head to the side.

Jenny sighed and ran her hands down her face. "After those murders happened... I was horrified. I needed a fresh start. And I didn't want to be harassed by the media or the police."

"But the police barely even interrogated you back in 97," Scotty pointed out, suspicion evident in his voice. "And I don't remember a single media interview with you. I don't think the press even mentioned you."

Jenny shrugged. "I was just careful, I guess."

"Careful enough to resort to felony?" Kat challenged her, making Jenny flinch. She waited a moment before looking Jenny in the eyes and asking: "Were you afraid of your affair with Jacob Stiller being uncovered? And everything that would entail?"

"We know, Jenny," Kat said softly, maintaining an eye contact. "As a matter of fact, his wife told us. It took her almost thirteen years, but she finally came clean."

"I figured it was just a matter of time," Jenny admitted softly, looking down at the floor. "And I knew I wouldn't be able to take it."

"And yet, you stayed close to Philadelphia all these years," Scotty exclaimed.

A look of hurt flashed over Jenny's face. "Jacob's grave is there."

"You still go there?" Scotty inquired.

"Every year," Jenny confirmed, nodding her head. "Two days after the anniversary of his death and two days after his birthday. To make sure I don't run into his wife or children."

"The wife and children that he was planning to leave because of you?" Scotty persisted.

Jenny glared at him. "He was planning to file a divorce. It's not like he was going to take off with me, change his name and never see them again."

"Still, that's a hell of a thing," Kat continued. "Walking out on your family. And you were worthy of that?"

"Love is complicated," Jenny said simply.

"So is a midlife crisis," Scotty shot back, a smug look on his face.

"I wasn't just a fling to him," Jenny hissed.

"Maybe that's how he felt at first," Kat pondered. "But what if he changed his mind? Used you for some fun and then decided to stay with his wife and kids? That would have made you very angry, I'd bet."

Jenny just stared blankly at her. "Angry enough to do what? Commit mass murder? Come on!" She sighed and ran a hand through her hair, trying to collect herself. "Besides, Jacob would have never chosen his wife over me."

"She found out about the affair shortly before the murders," Scotty informed her. "He could have walked out on her right then and there. He had nothing to hide anymore. But he stayed. And promised that they would work things out."

"He had his reasons," Jenny claimed, swallowing a lump in her throat.

Kat smirked. "I'm sure he did."

"I know he did," Jenny elaborated, her eyes watery. "He told me so. The last time we met."

 _(Building a Mystery by Sarah MacLachlan)_

 _Jenny looked around as she exited the McDonald's through the back door. There was nobody else around except for a young blonde woman dressed in the uniform. She was standing aside, smoking a cigarette and looking bored. Her nametag read "Brenda"._

 _"Jenny!"_

 _Jenny stopped in her tracks upon hearing the familiar voice. She shivered upon seeing Jacob standing right in front of her, only a few feet away. She didn't pull away when Jacob began approaching her, but she also didn't say anything, and even looked away at one point. Young blonde woman standing near by glared at her briefly and blew cigarette smoke in her face._

 _"It's nice to see you again," Jacob said, sarcasm evident in his voice as he and Jenny locked eyes._

 _Jenny shuddered, blush creeping up her cheeks. "How did you know I would be here?" she asked silently, mostly because she couldn't think of any other reply at the moment._

 _Jacob sighed, clearly frustrated. "You always have lunch here," he reminded her, taking a step closer "You told me about that, remember?"_

 _Jenny fought an urge to roll her eyes. "I also remember you telling me you'd rather die than eat that "junk"," she snarked, surprisingly annoyed all of a sudden. "Not junk food, just "junk"."_

 _Jacob sighed. "I'm only here to talk to you. That's all."_

 _"Why not do it in there/inside?" Jenny challenge him, a bit calmer, but also more confident._

 _"I didn't want to ruin your meal," Jacob claimed, chuckling briefly. "And I prefer privacy." He looked around, glaring at the blonde briefly. "As much as we can get under these circumstances, anyway..."_

 _"Hey, I have more right to be here than you do," the girl replied before pulling another smoke. Jacob shot another glare at her, then took Jenny by the arm and pulled her aside, into a corner near the McDonald's. Jenny winced, but didn't resist. Jacob looked around and ran a hand through his hair before turning to face Jenny, leaning in a bit closer to her._

 _"Why are you avoiding me, Jenny?" he asked under his breath, sounding hurt and concerned at the same time._

 _Jenny gulped, silent for a few moments. "What, I can't have some time for myself/alone time/me time?" she tried, shifting in place._

 _Jacob rolled his eyes. "I know all about your me-times and alone-times. This isn't it." He took a long, hard look at her, searching for understanding and trust in her deep dark eyes. "Talk to me, will you?" he asked her softly, maintaining an eye contact._

 _Jenny shuddered, feeling her heart flutter. "I... I just need some time to think this through," she said silently. "To... make up my mind."_

 _Jacob scoffed. "On what? You're doubting me again? Jenny, I gave you my word..."_

 _"I know," Jenny agreed, nodding her head._

 _Jacob raised an eyebrow. "Don't you trust me?"_

 _Jenny sighed, looking away for a moment. It was the time to come clean. She should have done it right away. She took a deep breath and braced herself before turning to face Jacob again. "Your... your wife called me."_

 _"Yesterday night," Jenny continued, suddenly feeling the surge of relief. But the bitterness remained. "That's what happened. That's the problem. Happy now?"_

 _Jacob just stared at her for a moment, trying to swallow that bitter pill. His face fell and he gritted his teeth. He didn't say anything for a while. Jenny didn't seem to mind._

 _"What did she tell you?" he asked her, barely controlling his anger._

 _Jenny groaned, crossing her arms of her chest. "That I'm a home wrecking whore," she spat out, feeling churning in her stomach. And goose bumps. "But also, that you would never leave her for me. That you're just using me. And that, in an unlikely case you were to take off with me, you-we-would ruin her life. And your children's lives." She shivered, bliskih back tears. "I thought she didn't know, Jacob."_

 _Jacob let out a heavy sigh, looking down at the floor for a moment."She found yesterday," he admitted shamefully. "I was surprised too. I've been thinking about the way/trying to come up with the right way to tell you, to warm you. Still, I never thought that she would..."_

 _"She must have found my number in a phone book, or in the school's directory," Jenny realized, her eyes widening._

 _"You know she only told those things to upset you, right?" Jacob maintained. "In order to break us apart?"_

 _Jenny sulked. "Of course. But the hurt and anger in her voice... it hit me hard. I felt sick."_

 _Jacob sighed and put his hands on Jenny's shoulders, giving her a warm, gentle smile. "That's what she wants. Don't fall for it. You don't deserve that and you know it. We are both adults, and we made our choice. What we deserve-what we need-is to be happy together. Life is too short. It's not going to wait for us."_

 _"Just few more days, Jenny," Jacob promised. "And then it's on."_

 _A few long, silent moments passed. Jacob observed Jenny the whole time, closely and carefully, until she formed a small smile, lightness coloring her features._

 _"Are we good now?" Jacob asked her softly, running his hands down her forearms. His voice was warm and hopeful._

 _Jenny smiled at him, finally feeling calmer, as warmth spread through her chest. "Yes, we're good," she agreed, gazing at Jacob lovingly._

 _Jacob smiled, giving Jenny a living look as he breathed a sigh of relief. "The next time this happens, don't avoid me," he advised her, moving a lock of hair off her face. "You come right to me."_

 _"OK," Jenny agreed, grinning._

 _"Good. But there won't be a next time," he said assuredly._

 _Both of them hardly even noticed Brenda approaching them. She threw the cigarette down on the pavement and stomped on it as she walked over to Jacob._

 _"How lovely," she remarked, looking Jenny over in a condescending manner before turning toward Jacob again. "You parked next to the water hydrant, pal. You better take care of that before it gets towed."_

 _Jacob glared at her, then took one last loving look at Jenny before walking away. Jenny smiled back at him._

"In an alleyway behind McDonald's, near the dumpster," Kat mused, with a heavy dose of sarcasm. "How romantic."

"That's how it happened," Jenny maintained, gritting her teeth. "And he meant it."

"And his wife called you two days before the murders?" Scotty inquired, a suspicious look on his face.

"I'd bet she didn't tell you that."

"And you never mentioned that either?" Kat proceeded, looking Jennifer in the eyes.

Jenny scoffed. "And expose my... our affair? Besides, I never thought was capable of murder, let alone the mass murder. That whole crime always seemed so... bizarre." She sighed and shook her head. "But I will never forget the things she said to me. That woman was vile."

"According to you," Scotty brought it up.

"Yeah," Jenny admitted, exasperated. "You don't have to believe me. But you can leave."

Scotty exchanged a look with Kat. "We will," he decided, standing up. "But you're going with us. We have to charge you with identity theft and fraud. In other words, you can kiss your new life, career, and privacy goodbye."

#

By the time they booked Jenny Peterson, it was well past afternoon. Scotty and Kat were back at pursuing other leads-in the precinct. Will and Nick exchanged a look with Scotty as they walked back into the workroom.

"No luck," Nick said with a sigh. "No security cameras near the phone booth. Forensics are dusting it for prints, but there are dozens of them. Most of them smudged or overlapping."

"Nothing from Herb either, he hasn't had any customers buying glass eyes recently," Will added, just as disappointed. "Uniforms are still canvassing other hunting stores in Philadelphia, talking to the owners and employees, pulling up the receipts and surveillance tapes. They're starting with the big ones first."

"Nothing at George Marks' childhood home either," Nick concluded. "We set up a patrol near by, just in case." He frowned, looking around. "Where is Lilly?"

"On a break, in the cafeteria," Scotty answered, worry evident in his voice. "I offered to come with her, but she said she wanted to be alone for a while."

Their conversation was interrupted by Kat, who walked into the workroom with a wide smile on her face and a fresh forensic report in her hand.

"Good news," she announced, walking past Will and Nick and handing the report to Scotty. "Ballistics have completed the bullet's trajectory analysis, taking in account the crime scene terrain and weather reports for that area on the night of the murders. They even used the 3D reconstruction. They think the bullet might have landed in a deserted field almost a mile away from that stretch of the road. According to the police records, that area was never searched."

"Didn't they examine everything in a five mile radius?" Will inquired, confused.

"Yes, but they were mostly focused on looking for abandoned cabins and sheds, since they were going with the mass abduction gone wrong angle," Kat explained, a knowing look on her face. "And the search for the bullet and shell casings was mostly limited to the area up to half a mile away from the road, to the left, and on the woods to the right, where three of the bodies and that duffel bag were found."

"What are the odds that the bullet is still there?" Nick wondered. "And in good enough condition for ballistic analysis?"

Kat gave him a half-hearted nod. "I looked at the area photos. Lots of stones, rocks and ditches in that field. Lots of places for a bullet to get stuck in. It's a stretch for sure. But it can't hurt to check. I informed John. He sent three forensics down there to examine the area. Metal detectors and all," she concluded, satisfied, before walking over to her desk.

Scotty frowned, leaning back in his seat. "Still, they could use a detective or two to supervise them, oversee the search," he mused, a mischievous look on his face. "Steer them in the right direction if possible."

Scotty smiled and looked over to Kat, who just sat down at her desk. Their eyes met, and Kat's face fell. "I think it's you and me again today, Kat," he teased her before standing up and heading for the door. Kat groaned, but promptly stood up and followed him.

#

The field was wide and deserted, its ground rough and rattled with barely any grass, full of sharp stones and rocks, with an occasional bush here and there. The sky was grey and cloudy, the weather chilly, cold even. A sharp wind would blow past every now and then. The place was swarming with forensic techs, carefully searching the area with metal detectors, examining every corner. There were even several uniforms with bloodhounds canvassing the area. Scotty and Kat walked alongside them, with latex gloves over their hands and booties over their shoe bottoms, overseeing their work as they made small talk to each other.

"It's kind of eerie... being here," Kat commented, feeling herself shiver.

Scotty smirked, looking around. "Even though you've never been here before?" He smiled, taking a closer look at his partner. "What, are you scared?"

"No," Kat denied, forcing a laugh. She shrugged. "It's just... eerie. That's all."

"So, you don't believe in supernatural?" Scotty asked rather suddenly, studying the area.

Kat quirked an eyebrow. "Do you?"

"Why?" Scotty replied. "Would that affect your opinion?"

Kat frowned. "I don't... I guess."

"You guess?" Scotty teased her.

Kat sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I mean... I believe in God," she explained, looking at Scotty and then back across the field every now and then. "Kind of. But I don't believe in monsters that live in the woods and slaughter teenagers that intrude their lair."

"I'd bet those kids didn't believe in such things either, until that night" Scotty pointed out, his voice dropping a bit. Kat shuddered.

"But currently, I really feel sorry for Lilly," Kat said, catching Scotty's attention. "She doesn't deserve to be reminded of... that. And to get dragged into this mess..."

"That bastard is trying to mess with her head," Scotty maintained, anger evident in his voice. "Hoping that she backs off. That we will all back off. But it will have the opposite effect. You don't go after one of us. We will find him, soon. And he will pay," he concluded darkly, quickening the pace. Kat stared at him, clearly taken aback, worried even, but she didn't say anything. She wasn't sure how to respond to that.

Their conversation was interrupted by the silent call from across the field. One of the forensic techs was standing there, in front of two big rocks, an excited look on his face. "We've got something!" he informed them, waving for them to come over.

Scotty and Kat stopped in their tracks and exchanged a look, their eyes wide. In the very next moment, they rushed over to the tech, who proudly pointed to the stone at his feet. Scotty and Kat looked down at them, and saw a long orange bullet stuck inside the crack between two rocks, partially covered by the bigger one.

"No way this is a coincidence," Kat exclaimed, her face flushed. "This is the bullet."

"It looks well preserved," Scotty pointed out, sounding hopeful.

"Because it got jammed deep between these two rocks," the tech explained eagerly, clearly proud and excited about his discovery. "I'm surprised our metal detectors picked it up."

"Thank God for modern technology," Scotty said, chuckling. "Get this to the ballistics ASAP."

"But bot before you document the entire process in great detail," Kat warned them. "Any jury will have a hard time believing that we found the magic bullet in the nature, over a decade after the crime had been committed. We need to make sure nobody can accuse us of planting the evidence."

Scotty and the tech both nodded, still observing the bullet with great interest. A sharp wind blew over again. Kat shivered and looked away.

#

Lilly was still sitting at her desk, buried in the paperwork, when Scotty and Kat walked into the workroom, exhausted but quite cheery, given the circumstances. They approached their partner right away, eager to tell her the good news.

"We've got the bullet!" Kat exclaimed proudly, beaming at Lilly. "And it's in a pretty good condition. Ballistics are running the striations through IBIS as we speak."

Lilly looked up at her, a proud look on her face. "And I've got a lead on Wendy Teller," she replied in low, almost dramatic tone.

Scotty and Kat looked back at her, taken aback. Lilly gave them a slight smirk, then turned toward her computer and began typing away.

"I've been listening to the calls made to the tipline," she explained, pulling up one of the video files. "The one that we have re-activated after reopening the case. This one caught my attention. Listen."

"Hello. I heard that you have re-opened the case."

"Yes, ma'am, we have. Have you got any information that may help us?"

"Have you re-interviewed all the witnesses? And the suspects?"

"Our detectives are working on that, ma'am. Do you know anything that can help us?"

"Five innocent people were killed. The thirteenth anniversary is approaching. And the case is still cold. What have you been doing all these years? How-and when-are you planning to finally close this?"

"Ma'am, we are well aware of that. Why are you calling us, exactly?"

"To let you know that there are still people who want justice. Who have been waiting for you to get off your asses and do something, for way too long."

"Would you mind introducing yourself, ma'am?"

Lilly closed the file and turned to face her friends again. "The same woman called two more times since then," she clarified. "From the same number."

Scotty frowned, deep in thought. "Sounds like she wants to make sure that we work on the case and follow up on all the possible leads. And she is clumsily trying to find out how the investigation is progressing, where we are at."

"And the way she talks about the victims..." Kat added.

"Like she has a personal connection to the case, but doesn't want to expose herself," Lilly concluded. "So far, Wendy Teller is the only person-with connection to this case-that is still off the grid."

"Sounds possible," Kat agreed, nodding her head.

Lilly smiled brightly for a change, leaning back in her chair as she continued her summation. "So, I ran the phone number through our database. Somebody made similar calls from that number, to the tipline, in 2000, when the case was officially classified as cold, and in 2007, on the tenth anniversary of the murders, to our precinct. The caller never identified herself."

"But you knew better," Scotty figured, smiling back.

Lilly nodded, holding up a fresh police report from her desk. "I contacted the phone company. The phone number is listed under Harold Lector, 40-year-old plastic surgeon living in. The house is only listed under his name too. But look at his Facebook page."

Both Scotty and Kat leaned over, taking a closer look at Lilly's computer screen. Most of the photographs on Harry Lector's Facebook page featured him in a company of a young, tall brunette, clearly much younger than him.

"He's married," Kat exclaimed, her eyes widening. "To a much younger woman. Who looks a lot like Wendy Teller." She frowned, taking a closer look at the computer screen. "Only older. With slightly different lips and nose."

"Probably the result of Harold's work," Scotty suggested. "That could be how they met."

"That explains why we can't find Wendy Teller," Lilly reasoned, still focused on Harold Lector's Facebook page. "The house and phone number are on her husband's name, probably the car too. She doesn't have a job. She didn't even have to change her name in order to stay off the grid."

"Maybe we could have tracked her down by looking into the marriage licenses and certificates, as well as health insurance records," Scotty pondered, moving away from the computer. "But those aren't the part of our database, and we would have needed a warrant to access those records. And I doubt we had a probable cause to obtain one."

"Well, thanks to Lilly, we managed to track Wendy Teller down anyway," Kat finished. "It's time to pay her a visit."

#

Wendy Teller truly looked different, even more so in person. But that look of hurt and anguish on her face was instantly recognizable. She crossed her legs and clasped her hands, grudgingly looking at Scotty and Kat, who were sitting on her couch, opposite to the armchair Wendy was sitting in. Her house was truly impressive, as evident by the living room alone: gorgeous Persian rug on a beautiful hardwood floor, wide-screen Plasma TV to the left, and genuinely impressive-and expensive-paintings on the walls. Wendy herself was dressed in a silk white blouse and short black skirt, with a diamond ring on her finger and turquoise necklace around her neck. She looked at Lilly and then at Kat, grinding her teeth.

"All these years, I've been doing my best to forget about the past, to move on," Wendy reminisced, glaring at them accusingly. "And now you guys comes into my life and drag it all up again."

"The case has been re-opened," Kat pointed out softly, looking her in the eyes.

"I heard about it on the news," Wendy replied. "Still not sure why you need to talk to me. How did you even find me?"

"We have our ways," Kat replied simply, looking back at Wendy.

"And you can't access the case files?" Wendy retorted, her voice filled with sarcasm. "I said everything I knew back in '97."

"You didn't tell much, actually," Scotty pointed out, calmly but determinently.

"There wasn't much to tell," Wendy claimed, shrugging. "I was a stupid kid. I made a mistake. A big mistake."

"It wasn't your fault," Kat said gently, giving her a compassionate look.

Wendy gulped, tears sparkling in her eyes. "Please, stop saying that," she whispered.

"Maybe you have remembered something new since," Scotty tried.

"If I had, I would have called it in," Wendy stated firmly, shifting in her seat. "Anonymously."

"Well, you have made plenty of anonymous phone calls. To our tip line. As a matter of fact, you made one yesterday."

Wendy flinched, but answered quickly. "I want this case to be solved," she explained silently, looking down at the floor for a moment. "Which is why I make sure to keep it fresh in Philadelphia PD's mind. Just a reminder that there are still people out there who want answers. But I'm afraid I can't actually give you any." She sighed. "Look, my daughter is going to come home from school soon, and my husband will return from work soon afterward, so..."

Scotty frowned, looking around. "Living under the radar, changed appearance, no social media presence..." She mused before turning to face Wendy again. "I see you've got six-penal lock-and the deadbolt-on the door, high-end home alarm, locks on the windows, mean dog outside... You're still afraid of... the Monster?" she concluded, studying Wendy carefully.

Wendy cringed and looked away, her lower lip quivering. Scotty waited for a moment, then continued.

"And by Monster, we, and you, mean Freddy, right?"

Wendy chuckled bitterly, her face pale. "I haven't even said his name in years," she muttered, tremors evident in her voice.

"We talked to him," Kat said softly. "He still denies being involved with you."

Wendy scoffed. "Well, I know what happened," she claimed, tear rolling down her face. She sighed heavily, leaning back in her chair as she looked away, remaining silent for a moment. "What he did with... to me. I will never forget it. Especially not our last meeting."

 _(Bitter Sweet Symphony by The Verve)_

 _Freddy and Wendy lied on a bed in the guest room, sweaty and exhausted, their naked bodies barely covered by the light bed sheet, their clothing scattered around. Freddy's pants and underwear lied on the floor next to the bed, while Wendy's bra ended up on the bedside table, her T-shirt hanging from the bed frame. Wendy sighed and turned to lie on the side, looking away, fresh hickey evident on the right side of her neck. Freddy laughed and scooted over to her, his body coated with sweat._

 _"Now, that was great," Freddy mused, looking Wendy over as he ran a hand up her bare back, making her shudder._

 _Wendy sighed, staring at the near by wall. "If you say so," she whispered, feeling goose bumps._

 _Freddy chuckled, though there was hesitation in his tone. "Come on," he tried, moving a bit closer to Wendy. "I know you liked it," he whispered into her ear, leaning his body into hers._

 _Wendy turned around to face him, a strangely determined look on her young flushed face. "I would like something more than that too," she revealed, almost brazenly. "From time to time."_

 _Freddy tried to smile, but it came off as more of a grimace. "Come on, baby," he said in a husky voice, moving a lock of hair off her face. "Don't be a mood killer."_

 _"I remember the first time I saw you.. so clearly, so vividly. As soon as I lied my eyes on you, I was filled with that strong, intense attraction."_

 _"You mean lust?" Wendy countered, grinning for a moment._

 _"I guess you can call it that way," Freddy admitted, lust shining in his eyes. "I just knew I had to have you, sooner or later. Luckily for me, it happened sooner than I expected."_ _He frowned and stroked a hickey on the side of her neck._ _"You make sure to cover this up. Or just lie about it. I'm sorry, I just can't resist marking you." "You're mine."_

 _"What am I to you, exactly?" she asked pointedly, looking him in the eyes. "Just a mistress? An easy lay?"_

 _Freddy grinned in response, taken aback by her bravado. "Nothing wrong with that," he replied, lying a hand on her inner thigh._

 _Wendy glared at him, feeling a burning sensation rise up in her chest. The words came out before she could think them through, let alone stop them. "Your wife would probably think otherwise," she spat out, her jaw clenched as her eyes burned through Freddy's._

 _Wendy's threat echoed through the room like a gunshot. She regretted it as soon as she said it, but didn't know how to retract it. She just stared blankly at Freddy, eyes-wide, her face suddenly pale, her lips pressed together tightly. His face darkened immediately, his muscles tensing up. Several tense, silent moments passed. And then Freddy reached over and grabbed Wendy's neck. Before she could scream, let alone fight back, he had her in his grip._

 _"Are you playing with me?" he hissed, staring at her with mad fury, his grip tightening as Wendy gasped for breath. She didn't answer._

 _"Are you planning to tell her?" Freddy continued, his nails digging into Wendy's skin._

 _"No!" Wendy cried out, pain and panic ripping through her muscles, her lungs fighting for air as the pressure compressed down her throat._

 _Freddy leaned in closer, still holding her tightly. "That's not the impression I got," he pointed out, veins on his arm popping up._

 _Wendy writhed in pain and fear, desperate for breath. "No, I swear!"_

 _"Good."_

 _Freddy let her go and stepped aside. Wendy fell down on the floor, gasping for breath. Freddy snickered._

 _"What's the matter? You like it rough, don't you?"_

 _Wendy didn't answer._

 _Freddy shot her one last look, a snarl on his face. Wendy shuddered and looked away. Freddy reached under the bed, produced a blue sports bag, pulled several towels and a bottle of water from it, and threw the supplies on the bed, next to Wendy._

 _"Come on. Clean yourself up, then leave."_

"He got busted the next day," Wendy concluded, shuddering. "And a week later... well." She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes. "I'm not sure if he's the killer. But I'm sure that he's more than capable."

"You never told the police about that... incident?" Kat asked carefully, giving Wendy a compassionate look.

Wendy cringed. "They already knew he was a creep. They just didn't have enough evidence to tie him to the murders. I didn't want to come off as an even bigger idiot. After all the red flags, I stayed with him... until he got caught."

"You said you saw him use a blue sports bag, right?" Scotty inquired, frowning.

"Yeah," Wendy confirmed.

Kat searched her pockets and found the crime scene photpgraph showing the blue sports bag found in the woods. She shivered in anticipation as she showed the photograph to Wendy.

"Did it look like this?" Kat asked, a hopeful look on her face.

Wendy looked at it for a moment, before her eyes widened in realization. "Yes," she agreed, shiverring. "Exactly. Every detail from that night is etched in my memory."

"You didn't mention that back in '97 either?" Kat asked, surprised.

Wendy's face fell. "Nobody ever asked me. Nobody showed me this photo, asked me to identify the bag. I guess it never occurred to them. Maybe they didn't think it looked specific enough. Or maybe I was just such a wreck that they barely even considered me a witness, let alone a reliable one."

Wendy sank back into her armchair. Scotty and Kat exchanged a look.

#

Scotty finally finished up the report on his computer. He rubbed his eyes, drained his cup of coffee and looked up at the clock on the wall.

"Yup," he figured, standing up. "Today's reports completed. Late. No new leads. Time to go home."

Nick and Will seemed to consider that for a moment, before getting up from their desks as well. "Might as well," Nick agreed. "We will go looking for Ahiga Nez tomorrow anyway."

Scotty frowned. "You've got a lead?"

Will nodded. "One of Ahiga's cousins mentioned that he sometimes eats in soup kitchen at St. Luke's. He sometimes sleeps in the adjacent homeless shelter too. We figure we may find him there. At the very least, we can advise the volunteers to call us if he shows up."

"No luck with Sarah Stiller though," Nick complained. "She lawyered up. We can't go near her."

"Just like Freddy Keller..." Will muttered.

"Maybe she was just ashamed to tell us about the way she treated Jenny, and now she doesn't want to get in trouble," Scotty suggested.

"But how would she know that we were after her?" Nick wondered.

Scotty frowned. "Maybe she didn't. She probably figured we would track down Jenny eventually and that something would come up, and she wanted to be prepared. Plus, she just admitted that she had known about her husband's affair before his death, and kept it a secret. Not good look."

"Neither is hiring a lawyer right afterward," Nick commented.

They were about to leave when Kat showed up and approached them, a curious smile on her face and a case file in her hand. "Not so fast," she warned, making them sulk as they stopped in their tracks. "I just met up with the ballistics. There's been a match in IBIS."

That information took everyone by surprise. A short silence ensued. "That rifle was used in another crime?" Scotty exclaimed.

"Yup," Kat confirmed. " Two non-fatal, long-distance school shootings. Both committed after the Halloween massacre of 1997. Not in Philadelphia. This happened at Manchester Prep, one of those fancy private schools for the elite in Manhattan. The first one was on April 2nd 1998. A Geography teacher was shot in the arm and leg while leaving his workplace. The other one was on April 19th the same year. 17-year-old student was shot in the gut while entering the school grounds."

That information only seemed to cause even more confusion. Everyone exchanged looks. "That sounds... similar, but very different at the same time," Scotty commented.

"Well, the same rifle was used," Nick pointed out.

"Doesn't mean it was the same guy," Will opposed. "The rifle could have traded many hands over those few months."

"And those weren't the only violent incidents that took place in Manchester Prep around that time," Kat continued. "On the night of February 18th 1998, somebody vandalised the school by spray-painting vulgar graffiti on the windows and walls, as well as smashing several windows. On March 5th, a bomb threat was called in. The school was promptly evacuated, the police and the bomb squad arrived on the scene within minutes, but the tip turned out to be fake. But on March 25th, somebody threw a Molotov cocktail through the window into one of the classrooms, during the computer science class. Fortunately, they all managed to get out before anyone was seriously hurt. The police suspected that vandal was also behind the later shootings, though there was no conclusive evidence of that. Either way, it all just stopped after the April 19th shooting, and the case remains unsolved."

"Any suspects?" Nick inquired.

Kat's face fell. "I just skimmed through the case file, I have yet to delve in, but it doesn't look promising. A few disgruntled former employees, some oddball students, one gun-totting conspiracy nut who lived near by... certainly no one connected to our case. If it was, that would have turned up by now."

"This doesn't really sound like our guy's M.O.," Will reasoned.

Scotty smiled, his face lighting up. He looked at Will and then at Kat, realization forming in his mind. "Maybe it does," he suggested. "The first plan was mass abduction. That failed, and turned into mass murder. So maybe the killer moved on to a similar, but a little less radical approach."

Nick frowned. "What are you getting at?"

"Well, Manchester Prep is an expensive, prestige private school, right? And those shootings were huge news."

"Yes, and?"

"Well, that couldn't have reflected well on them. Parents start feeling that the school isn't safe for their children anymore, the school's reputation starts going downhill. Parents start pulling their children out. Application rates drop. The school starts losing money and reputation. And cops have no leads on the shooter. Imagine if the shooter then contacted the school-the headmaster, the school board-and made them an offer. An offer they couldn't have refused."

Will's eyes widened, his lips twisting into a grin. "Pay me, and I'll stop," he concluded, exchanging a smile with Scotty.

Kat frowned, taken aback by the sudden conclusion, wheels turning in her mind. "And since he or she clearly stopped..."

"The Manchester Prep's administration has some explaining to do," Scotty concluded, a proud look on his face.

"Tomorrow," Nick concluded, letting out a tired sigh. "Let's call it a night, people."

#

Lilly sighed and took another sip of ginger aola, feeling herself shiver. She looked through the living room window, shuddering as she made sure that the police car was still parked in front of her house, just like it had been for hours. It was supposed to make her feel protected, and it did, to an extent, but it was also a constant reminder of the peril she was in. She looked away, her gaze landing on the framed photograph on the wall. Her and Christina. It had been taken ten years ago, the last time they had been happy together, but Lilly only had it framed and put it up two months ago. She wondered if Christina even knew what was going on. Probably not. Most of all, she hoped that the police looked after her that well too.

She nearly jumped out of her skin when the phone rang. Her heart leapt up as she stared at it, her whole body shaking. Another unknown number. She was sure that one, too, would be traced back to a phone booth. Or a burner phone.

Lilly looked outside again. Just in case. No changes. Rage and fear fumed inside her as she ran over to the phone and answered the call, hissing: "What do you want, you bastard?"

Once again, silence. Nothing but heavy, muffled breathing. It sounded like someone breathing through a mask. Lilly choked back a cry and took a deep breath.

"Say something," she demanded, gripping the phone so tightly that her hand hurt, her knuckles turning white.

One more moment of silence. And two. And three. Four. Five.

"The woods," the voice on the other end whispered, its tone deep and muffled, filled with anger. Lilly just stared blankly in front of herself, the phone nearly falling out of her hand, a scream getting stuck in her throat. She only let it out once the caller hung up, without saying another word.

#

Scotty sighed and ran a hand down his hair as he approached the precinct's parking lot. He pulled out his car keys and looked around, searching for his SUV. He couldn't wait to arrive home and get some sleep... But he was determined to go check on Lilly first. He knew there wasn't much he could do, but it felt right.

He stopped in his tracks, staring at his car in shock as his heart rate sped up. The windshield had been smashed almost to pieces, the same with the two front lights, and the hood had been dented in several places. Scotty immediately pulled out his gun and approached the car carefully, looking around as he did, cold sweat running down his back.

Scotty was startled when a dark figure jumped out from behind one of the cars parked near by and in front of him. He gasped and turned around, gun drawn. The mysterious stranger was dressed in a long black coat and black boots, with black leather gloves over his hand... and a grotesque pig's mask over his head. He was holding a crowbar in one hand, and a bottle of mace in the other.

Before Scotty could react, the monster wielded the crowbar and hit him over his right hand, knocking the gun out of his grip, sending it flying across the parking lot. Scotty cried out in terror, pain burning up from his injured hand up to his forearm. He could have sworn he heard the bone break. The attacker then raised the bottle and sprayed mace into Scotty's eyes. Scotty screamed, his eyesight turning blurry as pain ripped through his eyeballs, his corneas burning up as the strong sharp scent invaded his nostrils. In the next moment, the monster raised the bloody crowbar and slammed it into Scotty's face, sending piercing, hammering pain through his skull. Scotty managed to let out a weak groan before blacking out, collapsing on the rough pavement as the darkness engulfed him.


End file.
